Sticks and Stones
by unforth
Summary: Cas and Jimmy decide to have some fun teasing Dean. When things don't go as expected during the scene, Dean decides he's had enough. This story is NOT PWP. Deanjimstiel. Includes twincest. Trigger warnings in the author's note. Third story in the "All for One" series.
1. Chapter 1

When this hit 20,000 words, I decided to split it up into multiple chapters. I'm guessing it'll ultimately be 25,000 to 30,000, and I'll be arbitrarily split into 4 or 5 chapters, I expect. I tried to choose chapter breaks that made sense, sorry if they don't.

I am on massive levels of hormones that are screwing with me head and making me want to write *alllll the angst*. There is a lot of angst, and less smut than ya'll usually get from me (but there's some). I personally love angst, so I hope ya'll do to, and that you enjoy. :)

It is important for the reader to understand what "sub drop" is to better understand the level of angst going on in Dean's head in parts of this story. "Sub drop" is when, after an intense sexual encounter (it doesn't have to be sub/dom) causes the body to generate endorphins, those endorphins dissipate and by contrast the person feels depressed. This isn't necessarily that big a deal - though it can be - it varies by individual. For someone who has depression issues anyway, the endorphin crash of sub drop can be a really serious problem.

Trigger Warnings/Content Notes (not all in Chapter 1):

-Description of incest/twincest

-John Winchester's A+ Parenting

-No seriously he's a douche bag even though he's dead

-Homophobic language

-Accounts of past physical abuse

-Accounts of past emotional abuse

-Accounts of past prostitution

-Discussion/reminiscence of underage sexual encounters

-Implied/vaguely remembered accounts of sexual encounters between a teenager and an adult

-Dean's massive self-esteem issues

-Sub drop

FYI everyone, I haven't been super careful in constructing a timeline for this story, but here's roughly how I envision things (some of this info is new to this story):

Fourteen years before 20XA: Cas and Dean enter their freshman year at Lawrence HS together and become friends. Both are 14, as is Jimmy. Sam is 10 (Dean is 4 ½ years older).

Ten years before 20XA: Dean, Jimmy and Cas graduate. Dean stays in Lawrence. Jimmy moves west to start school at Berkeley. For a year, Cas goes to KU, but then he follows Jimmy to California.

Six years before 20XA: Sam graduates high school. He leaves for Stanford. Dean stays in Lawrence.

Three years before 20XA: John Winchester dies when Dean is 26 years old. Dean moves to San Jose.

Two years before 20XA: Sam graduates pre-law, starts law school.

July, 20XA: Dean and Cas start dating

November, 20XA: Cas invites Jimmy to join them (the events of "I Guess You're Just What I Needed")

Late March, 20XB: Dean says "I love you." (the events of "No More Than He Deserves")

Early April, 20XB: This story takes place.

* * *

A shrill alarm next to Dean's ear woke him instantly. Grumbling under his breath, Dean rolled over and shoved a pillow over his head, but the noise didn't stop.

"Cas, get up," he mumbled sleepily.

Through the thick fabric, the painful edge was taken off the noise, but it was still impossible to ignore. Sluggish thoughts began to register the situation in the bedroom. No one was touching his body. While he, Jimmy and Cas fit comfortably in the bed, it was unheard of for their not to be some kind of physical contact between them as they lay there. Jimmy tended to sprawl, and Cas liked to keep a hand on Dean at all times, and both tended to brush Dean since he slept in the middle. Fumbling between the sheets with sleep-numbed fingers, Dean found no tell-tale signs of warmth. That the twins would leave before Dean woke up was normal. Though Dean was a light sleeper, they were expert at sneaking out without bothering him. According to them, every morning Dean woke up, muttered good bye to them, and then passed out. Invariably, by the time Dean woke up again, he'd forgotten the exchange, and spent several seconds panicking that the twins' alarm hadn't gone off and they'd been late. He'd never been so comfortable anywhere, had never slept so well. At some point, without even realizing it, he'd given over feeling the need to be vigilant around Cas and Jimmy.

Flailing in the direction of the night stand, Dean brought his hand down on his cell phone, grabbed it, and squinted at the screen through sleep-bleary eyes. He swiped a finger over the display to shut the noise off, and the room went starkly quiet by contrast. The time read 7:02 AM, only an hour after the twins would have woken, 30 minutes since they left. There was no reason for Dean's alarm to be on, or his cell phone to be by the bed at all, unless Cas or Jimmy had put it there. A stab of heat colored his cheeks, rubbed phantom pleasure inside his ass, began to thicken his erection. Throwing aside the blankets, he half ran, half stumbled to the bathroom so take care of business before he grew uncomfortably aroused.

The apartment showed little signs of Dean's having moved in two weeks earlier. There were three toothbrushes in the cup instead of two. A third corner of the large bathtub held bottles of shampoo and aftershave. Originally, one drawer of the chest was given over entirely to Dean's belongings, but that organization had last roughly four days, until the first time the three of them had down laundry. Dean had folded everything in one pile, planning to separate it later. Instead, Jimmy had stuffed the clothing into whatever available space he could find. Just that soon, Dean's things became as mixed in with the twins' boxers and shirts and pants as the twin's belongings had been jumbled together before Dean moved in.

The formerly bare walls of the bedroom now held a single large frame, matted for six small pictures: Sam and Dean the day Sam graduated from high school, John depressingly yet gloriously nowhere in sight; teenage Cas and Dean hefting the enormous trophy that the Lawrence High Cornstalkers won when they beat the Dodge City Ramblers at the Kansas State Championship game; a slightly out of focus picture of Jimmy and Cas using two straws to drink from the same neon pink slushy; a photo of the Impala parked outside of Dean's first apartment in San Jose; a posed picture of the eight members the Novak family looking staid, demure and proper in suits and dresses, only Jimmy daring to wear a smile, sent to Dean as a Christmas card ages ago; and an old photo, yellowed at the edges, of the entire Winchester family, Mary, John, a chubby-cheeked youthful Dean and an infant Sam clearly on the verge of screaming his head off. When he lived alone, Dean kept the pictures hung in the back of his closet so no one would see his sentimentality. When Dean pulled it from the box of things the twins had carried from the Impala, he'd resolutely gone to the kitchen, grabbed a hammer and a nail, picked a spot near the window and hung the frame, all the while staring defiance that dared Jimmy and Cas to say one word. Neither had, though Jimmy had smirked like he was on the verge of laughing the whole time, and Cas had quirked his head to one side in confusion at the three pictures of himself. The next day Dean had entered the bedroom to find Cas covering the shot of his family with one hand, staring at the look on Dean's face in the football shot, frowning pensively as if seeing something in it he'd never seen before. When Cas had realized that Dean was watching him, Cas had turned abruptly away and left the room, but not before Dean caught a glimpse of stunning blue eyes awash with tears and warmth.

If Dean were any kind of man, he'd have gone after Cas and made sure he was okay. Instead, he'd heard the whisper of John Winchester reminding him that men didn't talk about shit like that. Instead, he'd stared at the pictures and wondered if he should take them down. Instead, he'd hurriedly joined Cas in the kitchen, and the two of them put dinner together while discussing inane things Cas' students had written in their most recent paper. Instead, that night in bed – not a scene, they usually only scened every week or two, and they hadn't since that fucking _amazing_ night two weeks ago – Dean had made sure that Cas and Jimmy both had one hell of a good time with his mouth and his ass. It was the least he could do, after everything they did for him. He'd had fun too, but it was about them, had to be about them. Cas had given him the strangest look afterwards, one Dean still hadn't been able to figure out the meaning of, though it had troubled him ever since.

Steely determination kept Dean's eyes from more than glancing over at the table beside the bedroom door. It was Thursday, and early, and the chances that the twins would be home before 2 or 3 that afternoon were virtually nonexistent. If they'd set him an alarm for 7, they wanted him up at 7, but knowing them they expected him to take care of himself before beginning. To the accompanying drip of a brewing pot of coffee, Dean scrambled some eggs, toasted bread, and tossed some slices of pre-cooked bacon in the microwave. Sitting at the kitchenette in his boxers, he ate the meal and flicked through reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, wishing he had the money to take Cas and Jimmy out on a date night, take them out to dinner somewhere that had real table clothes and candles and dim lighting that was meant to be atmospheric, not to hide the stains on the carpeting. Fuck, if he could afford to take them all to damn McDonalds and get a Redbox rental, that'd be better than the reality. Pathetic.

Dean heaved a sigh, rose and took his dishes to the sink. The twins had left their breakfast dishes for him to wash, at his insistence that if he was living rent free the chores were the least he could do, Dean wondered, not for the first time, what he was doing there. Every week it became more flagrantly obvious that Cas and Jimmy were in love with each other, in the "love that dare not speak its name" way as well as in the "he's my brother" way. It was only a matter of time before they realized that they didn't need Dean and his major malfunctions cluttering up what the two of them had. When that happened, Dean would be shit out of luck, and it would hurt worse the longer he waited.

Fuck, but he was glad they were doing a scene today. The physical high from the last one had lasted a few hours, the emotional high had lasted a few weeks, but it was finally wearing off. In its wake, he felt like Dean Winchester again. He hated feeling like Dean Winchester.

Dean _hated_ Dean Winchester.

The thought was a punch to the gut, knotting up his insides, destroying the light buzz of anticipation. Disgruntled, Dean walked into the living room, stepped out of his boxers, balled them up and tossed them under the table. The placement sent Cas and Jimmy the message that Dean was green light, a-ok and ready to go. The first was a total lie, he had no means to communicate the nuances of the truth, but the second was absolutely true. He was ready to be whatever they needed him to be so that they could get off. He was ready to be whatever they wanted, for as long as they wanted. Increasingly, it felt like there was a countdown running on how long before they neither needed or wanted him at all anymore.

How the fuck could Jimmy and Cas _both_ love Dean Winchester?

Atop the table was a bottle of lube and an unfamiliar butt plug, dull matte black, several inches long, narrow at the top, bulbous in the center, narrow just before the base, entirely unremarkable looking. A faint line traced around the top of it, as if a seam had been left when it was cast, and though it looked rubbery, it was surprisingly firm and heavy. Between the three men, they owned four butt plugs nearly identical to this one. There was no reason to buy another. A wooden dowel, about waist high on him and a couple inches thick, leaned against the side of the table.

The note for the day had been written by Jimmy.

 _You're in for one hell of a ride. Go lie on the bed and get comfortable. We thought you might need something to hold on to._

Frowning, Dean took the plug, the lube and the rod to bed, wondering what they had in mind.

The familiar steps of prepping himself were calming, helped to clear his mind of the damning realization of minutes before. Self-hatred wasn't something he could deal with, not now, not ever. Once he began, there were no thoughts, there was only the cold slickness of lube in his hand, only the liquid dripping down his fingers as he coated them. He thrust the fingers into himself smoothly, smeared the lube within his body. There was no pleasure to be had in fingering himself, not when he was forcing his conscious thoughts away so complete. There was only the need to prepare, only the need to be ready for Cas and Jimmy. With therapeutic detachment, Dean rolled the plug in the lube in his hand and thrust it into himself indifferently. He grabbed a tissue from a box on Cas' nightstand, cleaned his hands, threw the tissue away, and settled back on the bed.

The rod was the mystery. _Something to hold on to_. He grasped it in one hand, considered the thick hardness of it in his grip. It was grounding, soothing, in the same way he felt centered when Cas grasped his shoulder or Jimmy let Dean hold his hand during a scene. It was easily long enough for Dean to hold in both hands, and he lay it across his belly, feeling the wood abrading slightly on the soft skin of his stomach. Taking it in both hands, he balanced it across body. _Get comfortable_ , the note had said. The position, while interesting, was definitely not comfortable. A few other potential positions crossed his mind, but none that met the requirement that he be lying on the bed. He shifted his hips, felt the plug move in a way that finally gave a hint of pleasure, felt a chill of gusting air over the curve at his lower back. With a flash of inspiration, he slipped the dowel under his hips, right above his ass, and lay back down. It nestled comfortably there, digging in to his back just enough for him to be aware of it without it being a bother. Smiling that he'd found a solution – hoping it was one the twins would like – Dean settled on to the bed, wrapped both hands around the thick wood, wiggled his ass to give himself one last jolt of pleasure, and went still, arms at his side, shoulders rolled back, legs spread wide, cock resting mostly limp.

Breath in, breath out.

The ceiling was white, the only thing he could see without turning his head. The air was cool, ventilation stirring a breeze that brushed tantalizingly through the hair on his unshaved arms and legs, through the manicured shock of brown hair at the base of his cock. The comforter was plush, soft and easing against his skin. The wood in his hands was slightly rough, and he longed to rub his thumb over it, to feel the friction between his calloused skin and the unpolished pine grain. The plug teased at him, barely present enough to give him the hint erotic distraction, causing him to feel pleasantly stretched. His cock, half-hard with interest while he prepared, went flaccid. He would be waiting alone for hours. They'd never know if he moved, never know if obeyed. That didn't matter. He'd know if he did as instructed.

 _I have to be good for them_.

Breath in, breath out.

 _Otherwise, what use am I?_

Breath in, breath out.

 _It's just a matter of time before they realize that all they need is each other._

Breath in, breath out.

 _Pathetic_.

Breath in, breath out.

His grip on the rod tightened, and the thoughts faded. He had chosen this. He had chosen them. They had chosen him, for some reason.

Reverberating pressure blossomed between Dean's legs, spreading him, vibrating through him, the toy turning on and shivering him with pleasure. More than that, it was moving, it was expanding, it was opening him, it was…he gasped, back arching involuntarily, as it pressed against his prostate. It was all he could do not to cry out, not to writhe against the mattress. He was hard instantly, unsure if he was looking at the white paint or if his vision had blanked. His hands convulsed around the rod as he collapsed back against the bed, gasping, struggling to accommodate the unbelievable feeling. The vibration toned down, but the constant touch against the sensitive nerves within him did not, and he bit his lips against constant whimpers. Part of him screamed for the vibration to resume, it felt so _wonderful_ it filled the entire world with nothing but pulsing pleasure. Another part of him prayed it wouldn't. There was no way he could hold still with that feeling trembling through his body, no way he could withstand the need to touch himself, no way he could keep quiet.

Each panting breath he rasped in was ragged over his throat, his chest heaving. The whisper of buzzing touch created barely enough friction for him to be aware of it massaging through his channel. The constant stimulation to his prostate was like a light flashed before his eyes constantly, impossible to ignore, impossible to tune out. It was all consuming, wonderful, inexplicable.

As always, Jimmy and Cas looked after him. They knew that if Dean had nothing to distract him, he'd lose his damn mind. They knew he needed more than just a plug to occupy him for so long. They took care of him. He should trust them – would trust them. The vibration amped up once more and tears of bliss pooled in the corners of Dean's eyes. Silently, his lips mouthed, " _so good, so good, so good_ " but he held the words back. Even though they'd never know if Dean disobeyed his orders, Dean would know. He'd follow his instructions. He wouldn't move. He wouldn't make a noise. He'd be ready and waiting for them when they got back.

It was easy to say that the first hour.

Dean never knew when the vibrator would turn on, turn off, increase in intensity, fade to nothing. He never knew when the butt plug would close in on itself – how the _fuck_ was it doing that? – or when it would unfold and make him quiver with unsatisfied bliss. Long minutes would pass with nothing but his view of the ceiling, the loud sound of his own breathing in his ears, and the constant, urgent demands of his aching cock. There was no peace in those minutes, only tense anticipation that knotted his muscles. At any moment, the twins might activate the device again. His muscles rapidly grew fatigued as Dean kept his limbs and abs rigid against the certainty that when the plug turned on again it would be all he could do not to move, not to thrash, not to break and reach between his legs and thrust the toy in and out of his body, stroke his hardness. Inevitably, no matter how long he stayed tense, it was not until he began to relax that the pressure returned. The vibration was _spectacular._ His hands gripped the rod until his fingertips hurt with the strain and he silently cried, mouth agape, cock leaking against his belly, awash in the ecstasy he didn't dare respond to.

So it went, on and on, as Dean strained to breath in and out.

At least he was no longer thinking about anything other than how damn _awesome_ this butt plug was and how essential it was for him to behave.

The toy had been inert for at least ten minutes, he thought, when it began to vibrate gently. The feeling was so faint that he hardly noticed, was sustained so long that he grew accustomed to the buzz of pleasure, so much so that he was barely aware of it.

The frequency increased abruptly, sparkles bursting before his eyes. The toy wasn't as arousing when it was folded up, but even so the constant massaging of the toy gave excellent friction, good but never enough. Time stretched out again with no change in the toy's modulation, and once more the feeling grew so much a part of the background noise that he nearly forgot the toy was on.

The reverberation kicked up another notch. Lights like fireflies scattered before Dean's vision. His cock throbbed, his pulse sped as if it were racing against the vibrations, trying to catch up with them. It felt like time passed by seconds, each one endless, covering him in the bliss his lovers were granting him from afar. It seemed impossible that Dean could acclimate to the intensity of the feeling coursing through his channel, through his body, through his thoughts and behind his eyes and down to his finger tips and through his cock. Time proved him wrong, though. The time passed and his muscles began to relax, the vibration imitative of a soothing massage despite the way it was driving him completely crazy with want. Blood pulsed in his ears, and the pre-come and sweat that cooled from his skin kept him from sweltering.

The strength of the vibration amped up again.

There was no ignoring it. There was no getting used to it. Dean could hear it buzzing like a swarm of bees circling him, feel it rattling through his teeth. His vision of the ceiling fuzzed out and the pulsations coursing through Dean's body made his muscles feel jellified and uncontrollable. His toes curled against the bedding, his legs twitched and spasmed, his head shook back and forth. Unremitting bliss threatened to drown him. He wanted to scream with pleasure. He wanted to come, _fuck_ did he want to come, out of nowhere his orgasm threatened to suffocate him, his cock swelled and pulsing with heated blood and the semen being forced from the tip. Dean clamped down hard on the wooden dowel, strained against it with all his might, but the relief it offered was limited, his arms too rattled to hold on tightly, his grip weakened after so long. Frantically gasping for air, Dean held himself on the edge of his orgasm and prayed, fucking silently _begged_ that the twins' unerring sense of his limits was on point, that they realized how far they were pushing him.

The plug unfolded, brushed that all-consuming resonance against his prostate, held it there, coursing unspeakable oscillation through the most sensitive nerves in his entire body. Dean's hips gave an emphatic, uncontrollable thrust into the air, and his tenuous hold on equilibrium shattered. To the accompaniment of desperate sobs of sheer elation, his orgasm swept over him, his cock spewed hot semen across his belly. All his muscles knotted and then released and he melted against the bed, cock straining, pleasure resonating through him, endless bliss. Semen oozed thickly towards his crotch, catching in the thickening triangle of hair feathering down his lower abdomen. The stimulation continued, endless instants of shivering rapture. His hips rutted at the air and contradictory thoughts begged for the feeling to continue, begged for it to just fucking _end_ already.

His orders remained, a tenuous thread that screamed that he had to be silent, had to clutch the wooden rod. The importance of these directives was lost on him, nothing but white blankness and intense pleasure in his mind, but the need to follow them remained. He clamped his teeth against frantic groans as secondary and tertiary spurts of come weakly erupted from his burning cock to fall amidst his pubic hair. His body continuing to pulse a fourth, a fifth, a sixth time, even though there was nothing more to release. On and on the orgasm was prolonged, wracking his body to the point of nausea, to the point of pain, until the injunctions restraining him shattered, and words cracked free.

"Stop, stop, please stop, stop…make it stop…please…"

In answer to his pleas, the vibration cut off as if it had never been, the touch against his prostate shifted away, and the toy went dead. Ragged sobs scoured dryly over his aching throat as he rolled to his side, curled in on himself, banged his forehead against his knees and cried as he'd never cried in his life, clutching at his hair with limp fingers. The lingering heat of pleasure ebbed throughout his body, but it faded rapidly, overwhelmed by a fucking _ocean_ of guilt and shame.

In the eight months he and Cas had been doing scenes together, he'd never failed so completely.

There was no getting past that single point.

This was the one thing that Dean had left that made him feel like he could get through each day, and he had failed utterly, spectacularly, even enthusiastically.

The silence in his blissed-out mind was smug as it mocked him. There was no need for John Winchester's taunting voice to point out Dean's inadequacies. There was no point in tearing him down further. The evidence was too clear to be ignored. It was smeared all over his belly, drying in his pubic hair.

Dean could get up, clean himself off, calm himself down, re-position himself, pretend like it had never happened. There were no cameras in the room. For all that Cas and Jimmy got off on knowing Dean was waiting, were surely closeted somewhere on campus right then enjoying what they imagined they were doing to him, unless Dean told them they need never know that he'd just creamed himself untouched over a fucking vibrator.

 _Cas' office was so small that it was crowded with two people in it. Office hours were open, but the no one came mid-semester, leaving Castiel and Jimmy the privacy they needed. Frantic hands pawed intimately at clothed bodies, frantic mouths came together, lips made rough and firm by urgency, tongues flicking against each other, separating, linked briefly by a thin streamer of saliva. Fingers rubbed at nipples, drawing whimpers so deep they bordered on growls. With a snarl, Cas forced their bodies apart, pushed Jimmy against his desk, attacked the button and zipper on Jimmy's pants, pressed palms against the erection clothed with in. A low moan escaped Jimmy._

" _Cas…"_

Normally, the fantasies brought pleasure, left Dean aching and waiting, but now he just hurt. The prospect of them learning the truth was agonizing. The vision played on, heedless of his control, his desire for it to stop and leave him to his unhappiness in peace.

 _Abruptly, both men stopped moving, gasping with the effort of self-restraint. "What about Dean?" asked Cas, voice low and throaty yet pained._

" _Yeah," said Jimmy with disappointment. Despite his tone, his hips rutted gently against Cas' hands, still cupped against the bulge in Jimmy's pants. "He's waiting for us at home."_

" _It's going to be hours."_

 _There was a long pause. The two men stared at each other, gorgeous blue eyes met, chests matched in rapid breaths._

" _I don't want to wait, Cas," confessed Jimmy._

" _Neither do I," Cas' cheeks colored, breaking their gaze, kneading more urgently against Jimmy's hard cock._

" _What Dean doesn't know won't hurt him…"_

With a shudder, Dean suppressed the thoughts. The twins never had anal when Dean was around, which he'd long assumed meant they had it when he wasn't. If he couldn't be a good submissive, obedient, well-behaved, eager and awaiting their pleasure, they would have no use for him. Regardless of how much both men enjoyed telling him what to do, Jimmy could, and occasionally did, enjoy the sub role as much as Dean did.

Dean was rapidly becoming irrelevant.

Dean could clean himself up, reposition himself, and act like nothing had happened.

It wouldn't change the truth. He knew he'd failed, utterly, and in failing he'd sealed his face. Cas _always_ knew when something was troubling Dean. He'd find out.

A faint hum suffused his body, the toy turning on tauntingly, shutting off again moments later. The shiver of it in his senses continued long after the butt plug stilled. Unable to force himself to lay back down, Dean huddled in on himself, nearly fetal, accepting what little pleasure he could derive from the recurring teasing. Soon enough, it would all be over. Soon enough, they'd come home and they'd see him.

The thought was nauseatingly painful.

The unpleasant vibration through his spent body was the least he deserved for being Dean Winchester. A dull throb of pain etched dark lines through his mind, pounding behind his bleary, gritty eyes. A burst of intense vibration tingled through him, caused his spent cock to twitch, but there was no chance he could get it up again, not so soon, not with his prevailing depression. When Cas and Jimmy came home, he'd make sure they punished him like deserved. He could wait until then.

The fatigue of spending himself always left Dean blanked out, and usually that was a good thing, pleasant and warm, familiar and loving. Now, it was the opposite, a reminder of his utter inadequacy, and he wallowed in it, letting his thoughts drift.

Dean hated Dean Winchester. What a fucking useless jack off he was.

* * *

The butt plug I reference doesn't actually exist (I don't think...) but I figured we have the technology - I was heavily inspired by an actual toy I found on www dot extremerestraints dot com. If you want to see it, go to that URL and add this: /butt-plugs_1/remote-control-ass-anchor_ .

I kinda want to get the next chunk up tonight, but it might not happen, I'm pretty tired.


	2. Chapter 2

See trigger warnings and notes on Chapter 1.

* * *

The sound of the door opening and closing startled Dean from his extended reverie, drawing him to sudden alertness He blinked against the light in the room, lashes tangled with the salt of dried tears. They couldn't be back already. Hours couldn't have passed. Ashamed of the appearance he must present, Dean gritted his teeth, unfolded, grabbed the bar, and positioned himself in a semblance of obedience just as Cas stuck his head in the room. Dean caught a glimpse of delicately flushed cheeks and glasses before Dean locked his eyes on the ceiling.

"Jimmy," Cas said loudly, concerned.

"Yeah, bro?" Jimmy's voice was cheerful, edged with desire, as he spoke from the direction of the kitchen.

"Get in here," said Cas urgently. Dean squeezed his eyes closed. What a fucking moron he was. He should have cleaned himself up. He could have explained without making a fucking _spectacle_ of his failure.

"What is it?" Jimmy's footsteps approached, and Dean could feel a pair of gazes on him boring into his skin, the phantom of azure suffusing the back of his closed eyelids.

"What happened, Dean?" Cas asked, deeply troubled. The bed shifted beneath Dean once, twice, on his left and right. Sensing a touch approaching, he cringed despite himself, and found small relief when the imagined gesture never landed.

"I broke the rules," Dean said numbly. His voice was unrecognizable, made pure gravel by harsh breathing, rough cries, and tears. "I deserve to be punished. Please punish me."

"What happened?" Jimmy echoed, the worry even more incongruous in his usually upbeat voice.

"Use me," said Dean gruffly. "Please. I need you to." It was a wrench to admit, but if confessing were easy, it wouldn't count as punishment. With difficulty, he forced his eyes open. Cas hovered at the edge of his vision, forehead tight with concern, eyes narrowed behind thin-rimmed glasses, lips a thin, slightly pouty frown. Fingers approached from the other side, traced a line over his forehead, brushing aside strands of hair matted in place by sweat. The touch shivered through Dean's body, the muscles in his chest and shoulders tensed despite his efforts to appear relaxed. The touch vanished and Jimmy's weight from that side of the bed shifted and moved away.

"We're not doing a scene with you so upset," said Cas in a tone meant to brook no denial. "Please tell us what went wrong."

"What the fuck does it look like went wrong?" Dean snapped. As if the crust of dried white come filming his skin wasn't a fucking dead giveaway! Fuck Cas' utter self-possession and casual assumption of control. It wasn't for Cas to say they were finished. That was the one power Dean had in any scene and he wasn't going to relinquish it now, not when he needed catharsis so badly. "Just do it, dammit. I can be good for you. I can. I have to be. Let's get this show started already."

"Absolutely not," said Cas. In the background, Dean could hear water running. Cas' eyes left Dean, glanced towards the bathroom, nodding tensely. The water switched off again, unnecessarily loud footsteps crossed the room, and Jimmy leaned into view, reaching a damp washcloth towards Dean's face.

"Fuck off, Jimmy," Dean shook his head, catching snatches of color, the walls, the navy comforter, Jimmy's bright pink shirt, Cas' pale blue button up and black vest. "I don't deserve that."

"Seriously? You're making us go over this _again_?" Jimmy said incredulously. "How fucking stupid can you be?" That earned the younger twin a discouraging head shake from Cas. "What the hell, Dean? We know you, dude. If you came, it wasn't cause you didn't try your hardest. We'd only tested the toy a little on me. We shouldn't have pushed you so hard when we didn't know how you'd react, and we sure as shit shouldn't have pushed you when we weren't home to help. That's on us, not you. Now shut up and let me clean the spunk out of your pubes."

Small mercy that even Jimmy wasn't willing to start sponging him off without his permission. The cloth hovered just in Dean's sight. Cas was staring at him again. It was inconceivable to Dean that any one man could be so damn useless to him, much less that both of them could be. Didn't they understand? He was offering himself for their sakes. "Leave it," Dean snarled. "Yeah, I'm a mess. It's a neon fucking sign proclaiming what a fucking _failure_ I am. Do what you want with me. Fuck me stupid. Don't let me come." Desperation tinged his voice, and he risked shifting his head enough to meet Cas' gorgeous gaze. Deep, troubled blue eyes like a storm at sea offered him reassurance, affection, care, a whole bevy of other tender bullshit that was utterly useless to Dean just then. " _Please_ , Cas."

"No, Dean," Cas breathed. His tone made no fucking sense, almost like Dean was hurting him with the request.

"Anything you want," Dean insisted, spreading his legs wider, pointedly adjusting his grip on the wood bar, letting them see that he was still wearing the plug. He was still ready. "I'm a blank fucking slate. All those things you've wanted to try, and I said I wasn't so sure? Fucking go to _town_ on me, man. I'll call you 'sir.' I'll wear those fucking panties you two picked out and you can fuck me til they're soaked in lube and come. I've done a flogger before – I've seen you've got one in the closet – tear me open, I can take it, I won't make a fucking _sound_ and I won't fucking move a muscle." Alastair used to whip him bloody sometimes, and he'd hated it but he'd taken it because it was what he deserved. "Everything that's crossed your mind that I've nixed, Cas. Everything that Jimmy's sick brain has come up with that you haven't let him ask about – don't even fucking try to lie to me and say there isn't a list as long as his arm. Do those things. Do all of them. Fuck me, Cas."

Eyes wide, expression showing faint amazement that screamed utter, shell-shocked confusion on that staid, handsome face, Cas shook his head slowly. Disappointment compressed Dean's chest, fed the fires of anger in his chest.

 _I was right. When I can't be what Cas wants me to be, he has no need for me. If they don't need me what the_ fuck _use am I?_

Turning his head, he looked at Jimmy, who had his head quirked to one side in a gesture eerily reminiscent of Cas, watching Dean like he'd never seen him before and couldn't decide if he liked what he saw. There was a slight smirk on Jimmy's lips, but there was tension around his eyes. "Jimmy, man, I know you're good for it," Dean implored. The anger kept him from sounding like he was begging. Good. "Free pass. This body, your cock, one night only. I know you've got all kinds of nasty-ass plans for me."

"I do, Dean," confessed Jimmy with evident regret. "You're not wrong, there's plenty that Cas put the kybosh on without even letting me run it by you. I think he's too easy on you, personally. Doesn't fucking matter, though. Now is obviously not the moment."

"Why the _fuck_ not?" snarled Dean. Over his head, over his filthy, disgusting body, the twins exchanged a look laden with meaning that he couldn't suss any sense from.

 _They have no use for me. I am no use._

"We're not going to punish you."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

 _It's not even worth the fucking effort of making me suffer for being such a fucking screw up all the damn time_.

"The _fuck_ I didn't." It was all Dean could do not sit up and round on Cas, round on Jimmy, see if he could get a rise out of either of the calm-ass sons of bitches. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him violate his orders _again_. He could lay still. He could show that he was still capable of being what they needed. "I have _three fucking instructions_. If I can't follow the rules, I deserve what I get. _Do it_ , Cas."

"Under no circumstances will I allow an accident in which _we_ overstimulated you result in your being penalized," said Cas harshly, shooting Jimmy a look as if expecting disagreement, but none came. Jimmy nodded emphatically.

"You don't think I can take it," Dean said, taking a shaking breath and easing himself against the bed spread. "I get it." He fixed his eyes on the ceiling and eased his death grip on the dowel. "Why would you? I couldn't take this, right? One fucking vibrator and we can all see what a pussy Dean Winchester really is." Rage started to rise again, and he forced it down. "All I'm asking is the chance to make it up to you."

"You don't owe us anything," the soothing note in Cas' voice was infuriating. Cas always knew what Dean needed, except now, the one time when Dean was fucking _telling_ him.

" _We_ owe _you_ ," said Jimmy gently.

" _Bull_ ," Dean growled. "Don't tell me you didn't both walk in here fucking high on anticipation and so hard it was difficult to walk." Except maybe they hadn't, he thought with a sick sinking feeling. Both were fully clothed. Both were cool and collected, betraying not the least hint of horniness or sexual frustration.

 _Papers scattered all over the floor. Jimmy bent over Cas' narrow office table. Cas' fly lowered to free his long, fucking_ sexy _perfect cock. Jimmy's pants lowered just enough to reveal a half-moon of pale, curved skin, cheeks spread wide by the thick cock thrusting in and out of him. Grunts and choked off moans filled the air. The table hitched forward slightly at every thrust, inching towards the wall. The door knob rattled and Jimmy and Cas gasped identically, the chair holding the door closed shook but didn't give, Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table harder, face screwed up as if it was all he could do to not scream with elation. The urgency of Cas' thrusts increased, Jimmy's eyes squeezed shut, Cas' followed suit, mouth slack with the pleasure of fucking his brother's brains out._

 _"_ _Professor Cas?" asked an uncertain, youthful voice from outside the room._

 _"_ _Professor Cas," echoed Jimmy, an urgent whisper. "Teach me, professor, show me everything you know. Teach me…"_

Dean ruthlessly quashed the agonizing thoughts. Cas and Jimmy were looking at him like he was a wounded animal that might bite them if they tried to help, and it made him _furious_.

"If you want me, then fucking _do something about it_ ," he shouted. "You always want to know what I want, what I need? This is what I want. This is what I need. Fucking _dominate_ me. I can't possibly be any fucking clearer than that."

The words fell heavily into the room. Silence stretched out. Dean breathed hard, feeling like he was dragging his lame ass through race.

"Jimmy, go wait in the living room," Cas said with ominous quiet that sent an anticipatory shiver down Dean's spine. _Finally_. That was the tone of voice of someone who was sick of playing nice.

"Cas…"

"Go," repeated Cas. "I need to talk to Dean alone."

Jimmy looked from Cas to Dean and back, and nodded. He leaned over Dean to pass Cas the washcloth, stood and left, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean said with a smirk. "You do that. You _talk_ to me."

"Not when you're exposed like this," said Cas quietly. Turning his head to watch, Dean caught the inscrutable expression on Cas' face as he rose lithely, set the washcloth aside on the night stand, went to the chest of drawers and quickly pulled things out. Setting the clothing down on the edge of the bed, Cas sat beside Dean and took up the washcloth once more. "Let me clean you up, then you can get dressed and we can talk about what's gone wrong today." Gentle fingers reached between Dean's legs and withdrew the butt plug with a rush of friction that caused Dean no pleasure at all.

"Cas," snapped Dean, starting to sit up. "What the—"

" _No_ , Dean," snarled Cas, suddenly as angry as Dean had ever heard him. "Fine, if you want to stay covered in dried sweat and semen, that's your business." Cas wrapped the toy in the damp washcloth. "We're not having sex today. Put on some _damn_ clothes."

Cas wanted to _talk_. Cas was angry with him. Cas didn't want to take care of him. Cas didn't want Jimmy to hear whatever he was going to say. This was about Cas and Dean, just the two of them. The sick conviction churned Dean's stomach that Cas was about to dump him.

Embarrassment flooded him. He was lying on the bed, naked, covered in the evidence of his inability to follow simple instructions. He'd reduced himself to fucking _begging_ and Cas had still not given him what he needed. How useless did that make him?

 _I can show I'm good. I'm wide open. He can use me. I can offer myself. I can…what the_ fuck _am I thinking? Why the fuck should I keep offering everything I have to someone who doesn't fucking want me?_

Moving as if in a dream, thoughts roiling, expression as impassive as he could manage, Dean sat up, leaving the wood dowel lying on the bed. Cas had taken out a pair of plaid boxers, Dean's most tattered blue jeans, and an AC/DC shirt that Jimmy had gotten Dean for his birthday, black with their logo in white. Mechanically, he got dressed. Those were Cas' orders. They were unequivocal. He put his cloths on and stood, trembling with shame and anger.

"Dean, why are your orders, your orders?" asked Cas, self-control iron once more.

All the reasons came to him at once. He knew exactly why, because Cas had explained them to him before the first time they scened. Because when they had sex and Dean wasn't subbing, Dean focused entirely on Cas' pleasure at the expense of his own. Because Dean lost himself in the other person, didn't think his own pleasure mattered. Because when Dean moved during sex, it was to divert attention from his own body and return it to his partner. Because when Dean spoke during sex, it was to say dirty nothings for the enticement of the person he was making love to – not the person he was making love with – the person he was pleasuring, the person whose enjoyment trumped his own.

" _Answer me._ "

There was _nothing wrong_ with wanting to give Cas pleasure. Thinking on it now, he couldn't understand why he'd allowed Cas to convince him those rules were essential, that if Dean didn't obey them they'd not scene together. Dean should never have agreed. Dean should never have committed to being exclusive with Cas and Jimmy. No strings attached was easy. No strings attached thought he was fucking _awesome_ when he put their needs first, told him what a great lover he was, thanked him, gave him their number and said "call me sometime!" No strings attached didn't give a shit that he never did, didn't expect anything, never got to know him well enough to be as disappointed in him as Cas surely was right then.

That was why he didn't do relationships.

Shit, this was a relationship.

 _This_ was _a relationship. After tonight? Better be ready to sleep in the Impala again._

Cas sighed heavily. "Dean, this isn't healthy. I've let you get away with pushing me away when you were hurting, but things are different now. You've been crying all afternoon, haven't you? Let us take care of you!"

Something in Dean's head snapped. _That's_ what Cas wanted to say to him alone? To call him out on his failure? To offer him _comfort_ in place of what he deserved?

"You know what, Cas?" Dean paced to the far end of the room and spun on a heel, quivering with rage. " _Fuck you._ I thought you were my friend and my dom, not my fucking therapist with that fucking degree of yours. My friend would trust me and believe me when I say flat out, 'I need this, I want this.' My dom would fucking _give it to me_. If you're neither of those things, then what the fuck use are you to me?"

"Dean…" Cas looked _broken_. His eyes were wide and bottomless, mouth ajar, face slack as if Dean had struck him. Dean's heart burned painfully. He couldn't bear to be the reason Cas hurt, couldn't bear to have Cas look at him like that. Cas reached a hand towards him.

"No," Den stepped out of reach, towards the door. "Just fucking _no_. I'm not asking for your touchy feely bullshit, Cas. I'm asking for you to fucking _own me_ with your dick. If you're not going to do that…fuck this shit. I'm out of here."

Turning, Dean seized the door knob and stormed into the living room.

"Dean!" Cas called after him, voice cracking.

A lamp in the living room cast shadows over the room slowly growing dim in the late afternoon light. Jimmy sat on the couch, elbows on his knees as he hunched over, staring at Dean in amazement as Dean strode into the kitchen and grabbed his phone from the kitchenette. Starting to rise, Jimmy said, "What the fuck, Dean?"

"Fuck you, too, Jimmy," snarled Dean, turning back towards the younger twin. "You two fucking deserve each other." Jimmy froze, stunned.

The worst part was that Dean meant that, sincerely, profoundly. They were both perfect, and wonderful, and what they truly wanted was each other, what they deserved most was each other. Cas and Jimmy had been inseparable since the day they'd been born. Dean had been a fool to think he stood a chance at finding a space between them.

His leather jacket was on a hook beside the door, his keys and wallet in the pockets, his boots on the floor beneath. Shoving his feet into the shoes, he grabbed his jacket, ripped the door open, and slammed it behind him, the sound booming through the empty staircase leading out. Throwing the jacket over his shoulder, Dean fished out his keys as he leapt down the stairs two at a time. Fuck all if he was going to give them a moment to catch up with him. He couldn't deal with this shit, not any more. He was _done_.

The Impala was parked around the corner. He was in the driver's seat before he fully realized what he was doing, the car humming to life beneath him, around him, as he turned the key. Looking over his shoulder, he backed out of the tight parking spot carefully, caught a glimpse of black hair and blue eyes and a shapely body and a pink shirt, and with determination, Dean turned his eyes back towards the road, switched to first gear and drove off. He didn't look in his rear view mirror. He didn't glance back. If they hadn't figured out yet that they didn't need his worthless ass, they would figure it out once they had five minutes together without him around to distract them.

His phone made the sound of curious R2-D2 beeping and whining: Cas texting him.

Dean made turns without thinking about where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away. His route took him south and east, and before he knew it the heavy traffic and dense population of the city was left behind and he drove through a hilly, shrub-covered landscape, tall grasses dead and brown, bushes bright green with spring growth. Route 101 stretched before him, carrying him away from the coast, away from the bay, away from Sam and Sarah, away from Jimmy, away from Castiel.

Passing by an antenna tower, his phone chirped once, twice, three times, as it suddenly had signal. Jimmy's texts were announced by the huff of Darth Vader's heavy breathing, Sam's declared by Luke saying "I am a Jedi," and there was a burst R2-D2 beeps as well.

Dean ignored all of them.

* * *

Current plan is post everything I've written so far, and then finish the last chapter tonight and tomorrow as I'm able, with the aim of having it all done by tomorrow night or Tuesday. (I'm at work all day today and things keep distracting me, so I'm not getting as much done as I'd hoped.)


	3. Chapter 3

See trigger warnings and notes on Chapter 1.

* * *

Late afternoon should have seen the road packed with commuters, illuminated harshly by the sun setting to his right over the unseen-Pacific. Instead, the roads were surreally empty, and the sense that civilization existed passed behind him quickly. With no more distractions, his thoughts rapidly spun out of control.

Dean fucking Winchester. Loser extraordinaire. John Winchester's useless son. Ellen Harvelle's charity case. Sam Winchester's idiotic embarrassment of an older brother. Castiel and James Novak's pet.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he broken? His life hadn't been that hard. Loads had it harder. Sure, his mom had died when he was a kid, but Dean wasn't about to cry a fucking river over it. Lamenting her death made no difference, spilled milk or something. John had been an alcoholic shitshow from day one, volatile, aggressive, domineering and capricious. Maybe John had been a little hard on Dean. So what? They had a roof over their heads. They had enough food to eat. They had clothes on their backs and shoes on their feet. They had school every day and the Roadhouse to go to when things at home got too rough. Sure, they only had food and clothes and school supplies because Dean had worked for them, but that's what life was. Life was working for the things you needed, earning them. Only spoiled brats got shit handed to them. Every regular Joe worked his tail off day in and day out. That's what it meant to be a man. Dean was a man, had always been a man, and he could fucking take his punishment. The things John had said were only words. The blows left only bruises, long ago faded away.

 _Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me._

There was no excuse for how scarred Dean felt. His body was intact, despite everything, skin smooth and muscled, face attractive, but his mind showed every sign of a battlefield. It was pathetic. John was the veteran, Dean had wussed out on enlisting, because he didn't want to risk dying on foreign soil for nothing, because if he were abroad he couldn't look after Sam, because going away at 18 would have meant leaving Sam alone with John for four years and Dean didn't dare let little Sammy face the brunt of John's temper and erratic behavior. His unwillingness to serve was yet another way that Dean had proved a disappointment to his father. Fucking _dammit_ , Dean was a man. He _needed_ to be a man.

 _Then why do you let those two pretty boys treat you like a fucking_ woman _, son?_ John's voice taunted.

Dean did, he let Cas and Jimmy do whatever the fuck they wanted with him. He cleaned their apartment and did all the cooking, looked after the house, acted as their handyman, took care of their car. When they left him orders, and he followed them without question. His body was just another toy for their amusement. They forced him to discussing his feelings, as if his feelings were anything other than utterly irrelevant. There was shit to do, and he'd fucking do it, end of story.

When he'd been young, there had always been more work than hours in which to it. Sam was a kid, he deserved to get to be a kid. Someone had to help Sam with his homework, someone had to comfort him when he was scared, someone had to show him Star Wars and all the other classics, someone had to tease him for being a math-lete. Since John wasn't winning any parent of the year awards, Dean had taken up the mantle of making sure that Sam never realized that his childhood was anything other than apple pie and sunshine. At the same time, there was John and his pathological inability to take care of himself once he was soused: his vomit to clean up, his soiled clothes to wash, his large form to haul home from Harvelle's, drag into bed, his tab to be paid. There had to be money to pay for shit, there had to be dinner on the table at 6, there had to be breakfast ready at 7 and a bagged lunch to hand to Sam as he hurried out the door. There had to be someone to wake John's ass up to get him to work, the rare times he managed to hold down a job. There had to be money saved so that when Sam finally graduated from high school, there was a fund to pay for college. If Dean hadn't been determined to show Sam how important school was, leading by example, he'd have dropped out to work more. As it was, he'd worked two jobs through school and picked up a third as soon as he was done. He'd felt a hell of a lot less shitty back then than he did now.

In San Jose, Dean didn't have enough to occupy his time. He'd been letting the twins carry him. He'd been letting them use him, because he fucking _loved_ it when they used him, when they filled him and fucked him speechless and left him a leaking, aching mess. As long as they enjoyed his tightness, his wetness, his heat, they would ignore what a tiresome drain his moodiness was outside of the bedroom. As long as they enjoyed his submissiveness, they wouldn't stop to reflect on just what a pathetic excuse for a man he was. As long as he kept the house clean and good food in the fridge, maybe they'd never notice what a shameless mooch he was. Maybe, if he was really _good_ , they'd never realize that Dean wasn't the man his father had wanted him to be.

 _Not a man at all,_ whispered John's voice. _Having a dick don't make you a man. Wearing a leather jacket and boots. Driving a muscle car. Listening to mother fuckin' rock and roll. Being the bread winner. Coming home to a woman who bears your children and cooks your dinner and spreads her legs in your bed. That's what being a man is. Talking about your feelings? Playing house? Being so fucking incompetent you can't find more than part time work? That's not being a man. Letting two dark haired, blue eyed twinks take turns fucking you up the ass – letting them shove their cocks in your mouth – liking it – loving it – begging for it? I don't know what that makes you, but you sure as shit ain't no man, and you're no son of mine._

Dean's phone burst out another cacophony of overlapping text noises as his signal revived. There was nothing any of the three of them could possibly say to him that he wanted to hear. As if in answer to the thought, "Smoke on the Water" faded in, guitar riff growing louder as Dean's phone rang. He ignored it with as much determination as he'd ignored the texts.

An hour saw Dean in Gilroy, stopped at a red light at an intersection where a sign pointed south, indicating where 101 followed the coast to LA, and east, along 152, towards Route 5. It had been three years since Dean had gone that way, driving the Impala 30 hours straight as he fled Lawrence. Then, he'd been sure that if he stopped or slowed down, he'd talk himself out of moving to California, go back to what was familiar, and never fucking leave Lawrence. He had wanted out.

What did he want now?

 _Cas' eyes were black with lust, rimmed in dazzling blue, as he whispered in Dean's ears. "It feels so good to be inside you, Dean, so good…" A gentle thrust struck Dean deeply, blind-sided him as a harder one never could have. That slow movement left Dean awash in every sensation, gave him time to feel as every pleasure mounted. He reveled in the pressure that Cas' cock put on his sensitive insides, wonderful as nothing else was. "You're so good to me." Dean longed to answer, to say the same, to grind back against Cas' hips and ride that perfect dick until Cas couldn't take it anymore, but he could be good for Cas, he had to be, and he held silent. Cas rocked their bodies backwards until they leaned against the headboard, grasped Dean's hips and pulled him down, driving Cas deep, forcing a gasp from Dean's lips despite all his efforts to keep quiet._

 _"_ _My turn," Jimmy grinned mischievously from the far corner of the bed. His hole was spread, red and wet, as he withdrew the fingers he'd been using to prep himself. On all fours, Jimmy crossed to Cas and Dean, straddled their four legs easily, grasped the headboard hard and positioned himself over Dean's erection. "Hold him still for me, brother." Jimmy breathed the words against Dean's forehead, gently kissed Dean's temple._

 _With a throaty chuckle, Cas wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, held it upright and still as Jimmy lowered himself on to. Heat and pressure flashed across Dean's vision, pleasure snagged at his throat. Cas' voice echoed in Dean's head until he wasn't sure if words of praise were actually leaking gutturally from those pink lips, or if Dean was imagining the litany that said, "such a good boy, Dean, such an obedient boy, look at you spreading my brother open for me, look at how happy you're making him. See how much he likes to feel you inside of him. Tell him, Jimmy."_

 _"_ _Love your fucking cock," moaned Jimmy. Dean bottom out. The feel of being enveloped swamped Dean's senses, the musky smell of sex in his nose, two firm, muscled bodies surrounded him, filled him, were filled by him. "All stuffed with Dean fucking Winchester: a fucking dream come true, that's what that is. Fuck him into me, brother."_

 _Despite the weight atop him, Cas pivoted his hips hard, driving into Dean's prostate with a burst of fire and adrenaline that had Dean resisting the urge to find something to hold on to, desperate to grasp Jimmy's hips, desperate to fuck into the twin until Dean burst with the bliss that coursed through him. Cas' thrust pushed Dean's hips up, pushed him into Jimmy, who gave a criminal moan and wiggled around Dean, wordlessly begged for more._

 _"_ _Jerk me off, Cas," whispered Jimmy. "Pound him into me. Want to feel your hands on me. Want to pretend it's your cock inside me. Make me feel so good, brother, please."_

Dean jerked the wheel, pulling into the shoulder as he slammed on the breaks, breathing hard. Even in his own fucking _fantasies_ Dean wasn't enough for the people he cared about. Even in his fantasies, he could do nothing but receive, and had nothing to give. Even in his fantasies, Dean was a surrogate for Cas, as far as Jimmy was concerned, and vice versa. Even in his fantasies, he was just a boy.

Dean could prove he was a man, and John Winchester's son. He could do what John never could – hold down a steady job, provide for Sam, provide for himself.

There was always work in Lawrence. By this time tomorrow night he could pull up at Harvelle's, get his old night job tending bar back, see if Singer could give him some hours at the mechanic. Instead of pinching every penny to barely cover some measly textbooks, he could send Sam an actual allowance so his brother could take his fiancée out like she deserved. Instead of depending on the small student stipends that Jimmy and Cas pooled to make ends meet, Dean could earn his money, pay his own way. Instead of feeling like a fucking failure all the time, he could get an apartment, eat some meals that included some actual honest to god fresh fruits and vegetables instead of dried pasta and tomato sauce he doctored up from stuff he got out of cans. Instead of letting two grown men – two gorgeous, caring, _perfect_ men, his heart ached to think of them – treat him like a blow-up doll, he could act like a fucking normal guy, get one night stands at the bar, mess around, remember how to have fun having sex instead of having sex be so much Goddamn work all the time.

 _Fucking liar. One shots with strangers are nothing like being with Cas and Jimmy, and you fucking know it. You love that they do to you, you fucking adore it, and it feels better than any sex you've had in your entire ungrateful life._

He shouldn't love it. Loving having them coddle and care for him, loving needing their permission just to get off, was busted. Dean was so fucking _sick_ of feeling busted all the time. When he'd lived in Lawrence with his dad, after Jimmy and Cas left for the west coast, after Sam headed off to Stanford, when it was just Dean and John in that tired house on that tired street in that tired city, Dean had felt normal. There was too much work for him to think, he woke up each day, early mornings at the tow company, mornings and afternoons at Bobby's, nights and weekends at Ellen's bar. By the time he got home, he'd take care of John, fall on his face, and wake up the next morning to do it all again. Years had passed like that. It had been easy, routine. Not like now, when he got lost in his own thoughts, honestly wondered what he wanted as if anyone gave a shit, found himself listening to the small voice in his head that dared to suggest that being with Cas and Jimmy made him happy, that maybe he could have his pie and eat it too.

That was bullshit. Letting himself have what he wanted was why he wasn't able to provide enough for Sam anymore. It was selfish, and he was over it.

Harvelle's and Singer Salvage. One night stands. His leather jacket, his boots and the Impala. Singing his lungs out to Zeppelin. A mattress in a closet with a kitchen sink, a single burner, a half fridge and a shower stall. That was all Dean wanted. That was all he deserved.

Dean made the turn on to Interstate 5. It was a long drive to Lawrence.

 _Damn, it'll be good to be home._

Maybe, if he repeated those words to himself enough times, he'd not think they sounded like rank BS.

 _I miss Lawrence_.

He missed blue eyes and dark hair, wide shoulders and narrow hips, asses that were no less perfect for being a little boney, identical cocks that had no right to feel so damn good inside him, like fucking God on high had created a dick that was made to perfectly slot inside him.

A wash of text message noises – all R2-D2 and Luke, he noted disinterestedly – greeted him as he got on the Interstate.

 _We love you, Dean, only you._

Cas had promised to never lie to him, Jimmy had agreed to do the same, but they'd both lied when they'd said that. They loved each other, needed each other, not Dean. It was time for him to get out of the way. It was time for him to do what was best for everyone. Dean had been crazy to think he could ever be anything more than a small town failure.

 _Like father, like son_.

 _Ain't no fucking son of mine._

The night was full dark when a light on Dean's dash flashed orange, informing him that his gas tank was running low. The highway was empty in a way he adored, signs telling him that Bakersfield was coming up. Taking the exit before the city, Dean sped along a service road looking for a gas station, but the area was deserted, nothing to be seen except the matte black of hills and the comparatively lighter darkness of the night sky peppered with pinpricks of light.

There had been gas at the previous exit. He could turn back, be sure of filling the tank there rather than take the chance of running out and being stuck on the highway.

Dean had $100 in his wallet, every penny he possessed. With luck and care, it'd be just enough to get him to Lawrence. If he back tracked, he'd never make it.

 _It's enough to get you back to San Jose_.

His heart throbbed at the thought, a frown strained his features. A dull ache had settled into his muscles, his thighs, his glutes, reminding him of the strain of earlier, and a thud behind his gritty, burning eyes reminded him of the tears he'd shed.

 _Real men don't cry, son._

He hated his dad. He hated John Winchester, and he hated Dean Winchester.

"Fuck!" Dean slammed a hand against the steering wheel, and on sudden impulse, pulled into a dusty lot beside the road. The headlights swept over scrubby, twiggy brush, barren hills, and a barbed wire fence before Dean turned the car off and plunged the scene into darkness. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did he was greeted by beautiful evening. The stars made mysterious patterns across the sky, and Dean remembered a night, a fucking lifetime ago, when he'd driven Sam out to the country to watch the Perseid meteor shower, and the adorable dork had pointed out all the constellations to him.

The Big Dipper was obvious, gracing the sky to the west. There was something about an arc, Sam had this whole mnemonic shit to remind him – if Dean followed the curve of the dipper handle, he'd find a bright star – there it was – that was important for some reason or other. It formed a triangle with two others, Dean thought – or maybe it was a square? Several bright stars dazzled on each side of the foggy mist of the Milky Way, just barely visible despite the light pollution of the highway and the nearby towns.

If he filled his tank and kept going, Dean wouldn't have enough money to return to San Jose.

Leaving a place shouldn't feel like tearing his goddamn heart out. Leaving Lawrence certainly hadn't felt that way. Fuck, that was how he'd known he was making the right choice when he started towards Califonira. Heading west, heading towards Sam, had felt like going home. Visions of his brother had kept Dean driving that whole way. A guilty frown danced across Dean's features. It hadn't only been Sam's face that had guided him like the fucking north star that long night 3 years ago. Bright blue eyes and a warm smile had drawn him on as well. Now, those same eyes drooping with disappointment were a spur that drove him away. He couldn't bear to return and see the reception he received, the reception he deserved.

Dean got out of the car, walked around it once, kicked the tires for the fuck of it, and scowled.

This was an easy choice. Get in the fucking car, turn the fucking key, drive to fucking Kansas.

With a sigh, he hoisted himself up onto the hood and stared up at the uncaring sky.

Once he returned to the road, there would be no going back. He just needed a few minutes. He just needed to stare up at the gorgeous California sky a little longer. Headlights spoilers his night vision, blanking the sky in unremitting blackness. Moments later he was plunged in solitary darkness once more, the car disappeared around a bend in the road. His phone made an R2-D2 noise that sounded even more forlorn than usual in the stillness and quiet. A shiver ran through Dean, his heart gave another pained quiver. How long before Cas realized this was for the best and stopped trying to contact him? Not long, Dean suspected. There was no comfort in that belief at all.

Another set of headlights trailed by, going unusually slowly. With a screech of tires, the car pulled in next to the Impala, sending up a cloud of dust. Surprised, Dean squinted at the vehicle and quailed. The small, boxy old sedan was unmistakable. His rebellious heart shook of the unpleasant tight sadness that had clutched at him and pounded with excitement. Despite himself, Dean's eyes craved the sight of Castiel's tall form incongruously unfolding from the small front seat. _Idiot, he shouldn't text and drive_ , Dean thought, ashamed at the affectionate words. The car shut off, and Dean blinked against the sudden dark. He heard more than saw the driver's side door open, then slam shut.

He wouldn't miss Cas. He wouldn't miss Jimmy. He didn't need this. He was going home to Lawrence.

"Dean."

It wasn't Cas. It was Jimmy.


	4. Chapter 4

See trigger warnings and notes on Chapter 1.

* * *

 _Jimmy_ had come after him? Dean didn't understand. The concept refused to compute. Why would Jimmy drive four hours to come after Dean? If anyone else was in the car, Dean couldn't see them, and they weren't coming out. Jimmy had thrown his homespun jacket over his pink t-shirt, and his hair was a tangled bird's nest. His eyes were tight and dark, his stubble thick, and his expression impassive. Silently, Jimmy crossed the space between the two cars, swung onto the hood of the Impala next to Dean and gazed up at the sky as if he didn't notice the intensity Dean's stare. Conflicting emotions tore at Dean until he had no idea what he should do. Nothing in his life had prepared him to know how to cope with such a mixture of apprehension, hope, affection, and dejection.

"How'd you find me?" Dean finally broke the silence, voice gruff. Jimmy could have made Dean's life a whole fuckton easier by never showing his gorgeous face again.

 _One angel was hard enough to deal with. Why'd I have to go and fall for two of them?_

"Sam turned on the GPS on your phone," Jimmy explained, his wry smile audible though it was only barely visible.

Dean snorted. "He is such a little bitch."

"If it helps, he made me promise to tell you what a jerk you are." Jimmy leaned back to get a better view of the sky, the Impala creaking beneath his weight. "Beautiful night." In the darkness, Jimmy's skin looked paler than it actually was, nearly grey to Dean's night vision. Starlight sparkled faintly in the depths of his eyes. Jimmy reached up and ran a hand through his hair, long fingers curling, strands settling in all directions. Jimmy's chest made a graceful curve as he arched back to take in the view, his hand splayed on the hood of the car, supporting his weight.

 _Yeah, beautiful_.

No. Dean's mind was made up. He couldn't keep dealing with this shit. It was too fucking much for him, and it wasn't fair to the twins.

 _It's not fair to the people I love_.

"Why the fuck are you here, Jimmy?" Dean made the words as harsh as he could manage, hoping to get a rise from the man, but instead Jimmy took a slow, deep breath in and sighed it out. His eyes remained fixed on the sky.

"Did you know you're only the second person I've ever said 'I love you' to?" said Jimmy. "I mean, sure, I said it to my family. All those people who say it to you, and you say it back automatically without thinking about it. All those people that society says we're _supposed_ to love, says it so often and so loudly that it's fucking taboo to take two minutes and think if it's actually true. So, if I'm being honest, I guess I've said it a lot, to my parents, my grandparents before they died, Hannah and Luke and Mikey and even fucking Zack, everyone knew _that_ was a lie, aunts, uncles, all kinds of people, all bullshit, unsurprisingly, except for you, and except for Cassie."

Dean opened his mouth to interrupt Jimmy angrily, but the words died unsaid in his throat. The words sounded almost rehearsed – knowing Jimmy, the twin had spent the entire drive out here thinking about he wanted to say – and the distant look in Jimmy's eyes, the studied neutrality of his tone, the way that he barely acknowledged Dean's presence, all drew Dean in, left him curious to hear what was to come. With one chance to talk to Dean and tell him anything, what did Jimmy feel was important enough to share?

"The other day…not gonna lie, I've been freaking out about it," Jimmy chuckled. "Like, seriously, what the fuck was I _thinking_? I never shoulda gotten involved in this…whatever…with you two. Jimmy fucking Novak's stellar relationship record culminates in finally, finally falling ass over brains in love with his own brother and his brother's best friend. Cause _that'll_ end well. There's never been a place for me in this picture, just like I'm out of frame in that shot of you and Cassie and that ridiculous trophy hanging in the bedroom. From the first time Cassie approached me, saying he thought you'd like it if I joined in, I told myself I was being a dumbass, that I was making the biggest mistake of my already sordid life. Nonsense, I tried to convince myself. I've been with hundreds of people. None of _that_ ever meant anything. This would be just the same, just sex, just fucking _awesome_ sex. It wouldn't be any different than being with anyone else. Bullshit, of course. But I had wanted you – wanted both of you – for so long. With you there, I could pretend it was only about you. Also bullshit, of course. It was a monumentally bad decision, a selfish one, and I knew it, and I fucking did it anyway, inserted myself where I wasn't truly wanted. I couldn't look Cas in the eye, lie to him, claim that I didn't crave both of you, dream of both of you. I couldn't pretend that the vision of being in a threesome with you two didn't come to me when I was with other lovers and have me creaming so fast they didn't know what the fuck had hit them. It'd be a one-time thing, I told myself, maybe twice, just to get it – get you – out of my system. When it was over, I'd smoke a joint and return to business as usual.

"Before I could fucking think I was hip dip in love. Underneath all my crap, I think I always had been. Mindless fucking _stupid_ thing to do. All I could do was fuck everyone and everything up. All I could do was end up alone and miserable. I'd always be on the outside looking in, always be the third wheel. You'd always pick Cassie in the end. I wanted you to pick Cassie. He deserves you. I don't. That's what I thought when we were apart, anyway, when I was supposed to be researching my dissertation in the library and I'd find myself getting hard between the stacks at the mere thought of the night to come. Stupid fucking pathetic Jimmy, the black sheep of the Novak family, such a sexual deviant that he gets off on being the switch in a dom/sub relationship. Is there even a fucking word for that? I should end it, get my own place, leave you two to it. Then I'd get home, and you and Cas would be parked on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and all that misery fell away. It was so easy to join you, drape myself over Cas' back, bullshit about how crappy Enterprise was. It was so fun to dance around each other in the kitchen getting dinner ready, so comfortable to slip into bed together. It was so fucking _hot_ to wake up with your morning wood against my leg, to slip my hand around your cock as Cas rutted between your legs, feel both your hands covering my body until I lost it. When we're together it's so amazing that I don't even think about how fucked I am until we're apart again and reality comes crashing to earth. Sound familiar?"

In the pause left for Dean to answer, he finally mustered the defiance he should have spewed all along. No matter what Jimmy said, it changed nothing. Dean was going to Lawrence.

"Get to the fucking point, Jimmy," Dean tried to sound angry, defiant, but he had to acknowledge that more than anything, he sounded tired. "I'm sorry our mini-orgies have been causing you an existential crisis. You don't have to worry any more. I'm going home." A glimmer of hope quirked Jimmy's lips, lit his eyes. "I'm going to Lawrence," Dean clarified quashingly. A wave of nausea nearly plowed Dean to his hands and knees beside the car. Thinking it, planning it, was one thing. Saying it aloud, saying it to _Jimmy_ , was quite another. The hope vanished from that stunning face, Jimmy flinched, his eyes tightened and pooled with wetness that shimmered in the headlights of a passing car. If Dean reached out, he could wipe those tears away, tell Jimmy that everything was going to be alright. Nothing was going to be alright until Dean left. Dean's stomach heaved again.

"Great idea, Dean," said Jimmy sarcastically, as if Dean's words hadn't moved him at all. "You do that. I'm sure that'll fix everyone's problems. That's what you really think, isn't it? With you gone, everything will be all fine and dandy again. Somehow, despite _everything_ , you've gotten it into your thick skull that having you around is a bother to Sam, that you've forced your way into living with Cassie and I, that whenever you leave the room we bitch about what a pain it is to support your broke lazy ass." Dean scowled and turned away, looking down the highway. Exactly. Just like Cas, Jimmy understood Dean way too well. "All your live, you've given and given and given, so much that you forgot how to keep anything for yourself. When life deals you some reverses that are completely out of your control, you somehow convince yourself it was all your own fault, that you should have prevented the damn mechanic from going out of business, that Sam would be happier if he didn't have to work so much and that it's on you to work more to fix it, that, after Casssie knocked on your door in December and a blonde chick answered and said she'd never heard of you, we didn't spend months trying to figure out where you were staying and why you hadn't fucking told us that you'd moved. When you _finally_ get something for yourself, it's so inconceivable that you assume you can't have it. It's pitiful to watch, Dean. The only thing more pitiful the past couple weeks has been rubber-necking my own mental breakdown. I started a betting pool in my own head. Your bottomless hole of worthlessness versus my ocean of self-disgust. Wanna know the over-under on which of us I thought would melt down first after our love-in the other week?" Dean had no answer, and Jimmy pressed on as if he didn't expect one. "Spoilers. I thought it would be me, and I thought it'd be a week ago. We both exceeded my extremely low expectations. Go us."

"I don't get you," snapped Dean. "What the fuck do you have to be upset about? You get exactly what you want with me gone."

"Wow. Sometimes I wonder how the fuck your brain comes up with this shit." Jimmy shook his head. He shot Dean a quick glance, a flash of navy blue, before laying back on the hood of the car and staring blankly up at the Milky Way. "You're not the only fucked in the head, Dean. All of us are. You know why Cassie isn't here? Because he knew that if he came, you'd cave simply because he asked you to – not because it was what you wanted, but because you'd think it was what he wanted. Though he's never told me so, I'm positive he feels that he has asked so much of you that he can't possibly ask more. He broke down and sobbed after you walked out the door, and I knew that no matter what I said, he'd never pursue you. He's with Sam, by the way. I was afraid to leave him by himself."

Dean felt another sick lurch in his stomach. Sam was supposed to be at work that night. Cas was crying over Dean's worthless ass. Even trying to do the right think, all Dean did was fuck things up. "This'll be better for him in the long run," said Dean with what conviction he could muster.

"I appreciate that you believe that," said Jimmy neutrally. "When Cassie is hurting, he looks for someone to take care of, because he can lose himself, lose his pain, in helping another heal. That's why he's in psychology. That's why he's a dom. He doesn't know how to not look after the people he cares about. It eats him up when you won't let him give you aftercare, but he understands that you need space. He wants to be what you need him to be, because he adores you and always has. Cas wants to wrap you in love and give you everything that you've been denied, everything you've denied yourself, and he doesn't expect anything in return, doesn't need anything in return, because he derives true satisfaction from being there for you. He's really that fucking angelic."

Dean's heart ached. He knew every word of that to be true, had seen it himself. Kind, gentle, affectionate Castiel, always ready to forestall his pleasure in the name of Dean's.

"Jimmy—"

"And then there's me," continued Jimmy, tone steady as if Dean hadn't opened his damn mouth. "We live in a world where two thousand year old religions somehow dictate modern morality, where incest is utterly taboo even when there's no danger of producing some genetic freak of a baby, and where being gay can still get you beaten to death even in the most modern, forward-thinking countries in the world. With all that hanging over my head, I've been in love with my brother since before I was old enough to understand what it was I actually wanted from him. And I ain't talking brotherly feels, no, I mean full on homo-fucking-sexual hot-for-the-cock _love_. Before I had a single erotic impulse, I knew that something was wrong with me for feeling the way I did. He was my _brother_ , I wasn't supposed to want to run my fingers over his skin, wasn't supposed to feel joy from his presence, wasn't supposed to stare at him while he was changing and think how damn _beautiful_ he was. I sure as shit didn't feel that way about any of my _other_ brothers." Jimmy shuddered at the thought.

"It wasn't because he looked like me. I might play up the narcissistic crap, just like you do, but we both know that's bull, don't we? It was because he was _nothing like me_. All the ways I was busted and rebellious, all the ways that I was an embarrassment to the family, all the ways I was lazy and inept, he was hard working and stoic and devoted and determined and strong. Those things weren't any easier for him than they were for me; it wasn't that he had some innate talent that I didn't possess. It was hard for him, but he was strong enough to be the son our parents wanted and I just _wasn't_ and fuck did I envy him for it. My parents were always telling me to be more like Cassie, but Cassie always told me to be myself. I starved for his approval and he never withheld it, not once. When there was no one else, there was always Cas. At the time, I worshipped him for it, didn't understand why he bothered. As an adult, I see now it was just the same for him. When our parents looked at Cassie, they saw his staid behavior and praised him for it, precisely how a good little Christian boy should behave: never act out in church, always go to school, don't talk about your feelings, don't make trouble, God _forbid_ you fucking _smile_ one in a while. That was what those two sad excuses for role models wanted from Cassie, and he did it to make them happy, and I was the one who ever saw the toll it took on him. I think he encouraged me to act out because I did all the things he couldn't, just like I was devoted to him because he was able to exercise the self-control that I lacked.

"On the dark nights when the thunder storms would sweep across the plains, we'd both get scared, we'd both cry. The first time, we left went to our parents. They were pissed that we'd woken them up, told us that thunder was the sound of God's voice as he touched the world and we had no right to be afraid of our Father of Heaven, that we had no reason to be frightened unless we'd sinned, and that we should go back to bed. That's how we learned that God was fucking terrifying and would punish us if we went even a little astray. That's how we learned that, if we were scared or unsure, the only one we could go to was each other. And so we did. I acted out more. Cassie behaved better. Our parents thought we were too close and sent us to different schools, were worried I would be a bad influence on him. It didn't change anything. In the quiet of the night, I'd climb down to Cas' bottom bunk, wrap myself in his warmth, and hold him if the storms came.

"We were depressingly sheltered, but even so, we knew a little bit about the secret things adults did together. Looking at Cassie, I knew that what I wanted was what grown men wanted from grown women, I'd see his lips and wonder what it would feel like it kiss them, I'd long to run my hands over his skin. Then I'd think of the thunder, of that fucking _omnipotent_ douche bag watching over us, judging us. Lust was a sin. Homosexuality was a sin. Incest was a sin. What would God do to me when he learned that I lusted? That I lusted after men? That I lusted after my brother? I'd go to hell. What would happen to Cassie if I acted on my criminal impulses? Would I doom him too? It terrified me. I stopped sharing his bunk. I stopped holding him. He'd whisper my name in the darkness, the unspoken question of 'why' loud in the darkness, and I'd pretend I hadn't heard him, pretend I was asleep, pretend I couldn't hear him weeping. I could have self-control. I could be like him. I could protect him from temptation and sin. I could protect him from _me_."

Jimmy paused, took a shuddering breath, and Dean was too rapt to interrupt, to tell him to shove it. Neither twin had ever spoken to Dean of their childhood. Dean had seen their affection from the first time he met them together, had envied how close they were. Their dirty talk during sex made it clear that they'd done more together than brothers should, but it was always flippant, it was always said in a way that was intended to gratify Dean's dirtiest fantasies. He'd wondered, of course, why they shared a bed, how intimate they had truly been, but it was none of his damn business, then or now. He should be on the road. He shouldn't be desperate to hear every word, shouldn't long to better understand the twins he cherished.

"The first time I woke up hard, dripping, Cassie's name was on my lips, his face was in my dreams, the ghost of his touch was fading from my body. No one had explained that puberty shit to us, because it wasn't like _that_ was information we needed, right? I had no clue what to do, tried not to wake him up, but he heard me whimpering, heard me whispering desperately for him despite all my efforts not to, and he climbed up to the upper bunk. He was as confused as I was, but he had to take care of me, he had to tell me it was alright and that I'd done nothing wrong, he couldn't fucking _help_ himself, so he wrapped his arms around me. Fuck, that felt good. It felt _right_ , like coming home. At my insistence, we hadn't shared a bed in two years. I should have told him to stop, but it was everything I'd ever wanted. His touch soothed that incomprehensible need. My first orgasm was that night in Cassie's arms, his fingers nervously stroking my cock, my face buried in his shoulder as I cried, his name on my lips like a frantic prayer for forgiveness. By the time I was done he was the one whimpering, he was the one whispering ' _Jimmy, Jimmy please…_ ' It was my fault he felt like that. I couldn't leave him lost and wanting, couldn't leave him feeling the way I had felt before he helped me. I hadn't the least fucking clue what I was doing, but I rubbed at the front of his pants until he came apart sobbing. All I could think was how fucking _beautiful_ and _perfect_ he looked in that moment, how I wanted to see him make that face every night. I wanted to be the one to make him feel like that, forever, over and over. Dean, we were fucking _ten years old_.

"It happened again, of course – again and again. We never spoke to our parents, we never told anyone. We did what we'd always done. We took care of each other. We explored each other's bodies. We learned how to make the other feel good, feel great, feel amazing. I _knew_ it was wrong. I knew I was going to hell. I knew it was my fault, that Cassie would never have done something like that if I hadn't begged for his help that first night. My brother was going to burn forever because of my sins. I was such a selfish fucking bastard, claiming that I loved him, claiming that I did what I did because he liked it too, deluding myself that he needed me the way I needed him. Bullshit. There would come a time when Cassie would meeting someone else and what we'd had would fade away, a childhood mistake, product of youthful naiveté, embarrassing and unmentionable. When he moved on, he'd be saved. I'd bear the punishment for both of us, hellfire and damnation and all that jazz, like I always had, like I always should. There would be no moving on for me. With all the certainty of thirteen, I knew that I would never, ever love anyone else.

"The first time I heard your name, Cassie was moaning ' _Dean, Dean_ ' in the bathroom. I knew that tone, the hint of aching desperation that tinged Cassie's voice just before he came. We never masturbated in the bathroom. Our bedroom was safe. No one went in there except us. We could take care of each other there. The bathroom had a thin door and faced the hallway. Anyone could hear him. But, then, I'd never heard him say anyone's name in that voice except my own. I'd expected it to be painful, but fuck if it didn't feel like tearing my fucking heart out and burning it. I had never met you, but I fucking _hated_ you, for making him happy, for making me hurt. No more than I deserved, I reminded myself. Eternity was a long time, and I would have suffered more and longer to spare him perdition. He was finally getting on with his life. I thanked God for that.

"And then I met you.

"I hated your jock good looks and your smug smile. I hated the easy, confident way you moved about the house as if you fucking owned the place. I hated the easy, confident way you shared space with Cassie as if you fucking owned him. I hated that you were a fucking coward, hiding in that _same fucking bathroom_ moaning my brother's name when he had no idea you cared for him. I hated the flippant way you described your current girlfriend to him as if you couldn't see the pain in his eyes. How could this fucking _asshole_ be the person who'd stolen Cassie's heart from me? I could give him up for someone who deserved him, but for you? I'd never let anyone have him who was only going to cause him pain just like I always did. How could it be _you_? That whole afternoon, I watched you, seethed, wondered how the fuck I was going to get Cassie away from you without hurting him even more. I was a selfish bastard. I kept saying Cassie needed to find someone else, but when he did I immediately devoted every thought to ruining it.

"The reality of the situation slowly intruded on me despite my resolution to loathe your ass. Your words were insensitive and your attitude was brusque, but your actions were caring and affectionate. Every tiny signal that he gave, you picked up on. You stopped talking about that girlfriend. You noticed how his eyes flicked to the bookcase and you segued easily into talking about the books on there. When he licked his lips you got him a cup of water even though you were his guest. In all kinds of subtle ways, you read him and took care of him. All our family, all our friends, everyone saw how calm and self-controlled he was and assumed he was fine, that nothing hurt him or swayed him. You weren't fooled for a fucking instant, and you took steps to help him without ever saying a word, without commenting, without expecting anything in return. No one treated my brother that way. I could see why he wanted you. By the time you left that night, I wanted you. I wanted you to want me. I wanted you to treat me the way you treated him. Like I said – I was a selfish bastard. My brother couldn't have something good for three fucking hours before I wanted it for myself.

"Cassie figured it out, of course. I had my own share of wet dreams, and it wasn't long before I woke up from one high on green eyes and Cassie climbed to the top bunk, blew me, and told me after whose name I'd been breathing before I woke up. I thought he'd be angry with me, thought we'd become rivals. Instead, he shared. He thought you didn't care for him, thought he'd never have you, so he took what little of you he did have and let me have it too. Fucking _angel_. He told me about how you played football. He told me about how you hated class and didn't do your homework. He told me about how you worked at the store at the gas station after school and on weekends. He told me about your brother Sam, how he was in middle school, how you loved him and took care of him. He told me about how you idolized your dad. He told me that your mom had died. He showed me the stupid faces you made when people took your picture. He told me how you sometimes chew with your mouth open and it should be disgusting but instead it was kind of adorable. He convinced you to hang out at our place as often as he could, and he told me how much it hurt that you always seemed to resistant to doing so, and that it hurt worse that you didn't seem to want him at your house at all. He told me that he thought you were ashamed of him.

"As he got to know you better, he told me other things, too. He told me about meeting your dad on parent-teacher night, that John was piss drunk and told the teachers not to bother with you because book learning wasn't for idiots who were never going anywhere with their lives. A roomful of teachers, parents and your classmates stared as he tore into you while you were standing there listening."

 _We're not wasting money for on_ _sending a moron to college._ _Sam's the one with potential._

John's voice, memories, not mere inventions of his own mind to berate himself, sent a shudder through Dean.

"He told me about passing you outside Harvelle's. You were trying to carry John home, even though your dad had 50 pounds on you easy. He told me how John was fucking laying into you, telling you how lazy, disgusting, ungrateful, rude, selfish, irresponsible, you were, and you just took it and kept helping him."

That night was etched in Dean's mind, easily one of the worst of his life. Drunk almost incoherent, John had found Dean in the alley behind Harvelle's, doing what he had to do to earn the money for Sam's lunches.

 _What am I seeing here, boy? Why the fuck are you on your knees? Was that a fucking_ cock _in your mouth? Are you fag, boy? Is my son a fucking faggot? There's no way. Ain't no fuckin' way. No son of mine is a fairy._

The man Dean had been blowing fled. John's hand wrapped harshly around his shoulder and dragged him into the street, John screaming Dean's infraction for all to hear.

"He asked mom to stop so that they could give you a ride home. Your dad reeked of booze and slumped in the backseat and didn't let up shouting at you despite how loud the noise was in the car, despite Cassie and mom in the front seat, despite the tears streaming down your face."

Just when Dean didn't think the evening could get any worse, Cas and his mom had pulled up, all sympathy and kindness, as if they couldn't hear the words pouring from John's mouth.

 _Oh, so you were just trying to help? Just trying to pay my bar tab? On your fucking_ knees _? You fucking liar. You fucking loved it. Look at that fucking bulge in your fucking pants. I don't need your whore money, boy, and don't you know it. Gonna use it on drugs? Gonna use it to buy a whore of your own? Yeah, that's what I thought, you selfish, ungrateful bastard. You don't give a_ shit _about this family. All you care about is yourself._

All Dean could do was sit, stiff backed and determined, and hope that very proper Castiel and his very proper family thought that, in his drunken stupor, John was making shit up.

"That night, mom told us not to be friends with you anymore."

After they'd finally, mercifully returned home, John had only grown worse.

 _You blow people for free, too? You blow that pretty boyfriend of yours? Let him fuck you? Bet his mommy would love to know kind of boy her son is hanging out with. If I ever see him around this house again, I'll tell her. I'll tell her exactly what kind of cock sucker you are, you disgusting son of a bitch. I'll take her to that alley and let her see you on your knees with a dick half way down your throat. I can't even fucking believe it, Dean, a fucking fag, a fucking whore. I should kick you out of the house. I will, I fucking swear I will, unless you can show me that you're a man_ _._ _Are you a man?_

At least Sam was asleep, at least his brother didn't have to listen to John's account of Dean's every damn sin.

"The next day, Cassie was crying when he got home. He told me that your sides were black and blue when he saw you in the locker room the next day. He told me he could make out a handprint around your arm."

 _You gotta be a man, Dean. Can you do that, you little bitch? Don't you fucking cry, you fucking nancy. I'll teach you how to be a man. I'll beat the gay out of your whore's ass. Show me how you take pain, Dean. Show me that you're a man. Prove to me that you're my son._

"Cassie fucking hated himself because he didn't say anything, didn't help you, didn't protect you, didn't soothe your pain, didn't tell a teacher. He was scared of what would happen to you if he said anything and John found out, scared you'd be mad at him, scared you'd realize his feelings for you and leave. Turned out he was just as selfish as I was, so afraid he'd lose you, so afraid that Social Services would take you away. He stood aside and let your father fucking abuse you and treat you like shit when he literally thought you were the most wonderful person he'd ever met."

The next day, Dean acted like nothing had happened. Flash some teeth, smile, laugh it off, everything would be fine as long as Cas didn't say anything. Changing in the gym with Cas was always torture, catching a glimpse of his slim body and finely-toned muscles was fucking boner city, but that day it was awful for completely different reasons.

 _Don't look at me, Cas. Don't look at my body, my bruises, my sins. Don't ever look at me. I'm disgusting. I don't deserve for you to look at me. I don't deserve for you to talk to me. I don't deserve for you to be my friend._

"Ever wonder why Cassie didn't tell you that he cared for you back then? That's why, Dean."

 _It hurts, Cas. It never stops hurting. Help me. Please, help me, angel!_

"Ever wonder why Castiel dropped out of KU after a year, left Lawrence, joined me out here and never came back? That's why."

"Why the fuck are you telling me this, Jimmy?" Dean snarled, his voice shaking with pent-up emotions. "So, Cas and you – you left Lawrence to escape me? _Good_. Fucking _perfect_. I should never have followed you. I'm no good: never have been, never will be. I never told Cas I wanted him because if my dad had found out he'd have fucking killed Cas and left his body in a ditch. I dated all those girls cause I had to do something - fuck someone - or else I was going to lose my damn mind. I had to show my dad that I was a fucking _man_. And I loved Cas, because through it all he was always fucking _perfect_. Anyone else would have called me out on all that shit, ratted us out to Social Services. The government would have come, and either they would have left us with John, who'd have assumed I'm the one who told them and beaten me stupid, or they'd have taken Sam and I away, split us up. I couldn't lose my brother. I had to take care of him. Anyone but Cas would have told me it'd be alright someday or spewed some other meaningless Hallmark Card bullshit. Not Cas. He always knew what I needed, and he always gave it to me. He knew it wasn't alright and would never be alright. He knew what a fucking waste of space I was, I am, and he was my best friend anyway." Dean took a ragged breath and quelled the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. There was so much he couldn't say. There was so much he didn't dare let show on his face. "Fuck, Jimmy. I can't keep doing this to him. I can't keep making him cry. You must understand that. If you really love him like, if you really want to protect him, you've gotta let me leave."

"It's too late for that," Jimmy said quietly, turning at last to face Dean. Tears streaked his cheeks, though Dean hadn't heard a hint of sorrow in his voice as he'd related his narrative, only passion, anger, self-loathing. "I think it was probably too late the minute you two met. Certainly, it's been too late since you moved to California. Haven't you been listening? He's not some perfect fucking angel who you're dragging down into the pit. I threw myself into the pit to protect him. You were thrown into the pit by that dirt bag pathetic ass father of yours, and Cassie...he jumped into the pit after us because he cared too much not to make the leap when he knew we had gone without him. He loves you." Jimmy laughed, a cold sound unlike any Dean had ever heard pass through those normally irreverent lips. "God help us all, he loves me, too, and I sure don't mean platonically. We're all in this fucked up thing together."

"No," Dean said. "You're wrong. I'm a fucking worthless douche bag who takes everything you two offer. Both of you have this pathological need to fix things and try to make them right, as if any of what's wrong with me was ever your fucking responsibility to fix. I get that you think he cares about me, that you think you care about me. I know things weren't easy for you two growing up. I'm not the answer. I am _no one's_ answer. I've never been able to fix anything. All I do is break things worse." Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off. "Don't even try to bullshit me by suggesting that I've done anything other than fuck shit up between you two. You said it: before I showed up, you and Cas were happy _together_ , and, you know, in love with each other and shit. I fucked that up. I came between you. If I go, you can focus on Cassie again, he can focus on you – he likes domming you just as much he does me, fuck, I think he likes it better – and I can quit mooching off you two, and do right by Sam. In Lawrence."

"Dammit, Dean, can you quit being a martyr for 2 seconds and listen to yourself?" Jimmy sat up abruptly, and despite the tears swimming in his eyes his expression was fierce. "You came between us? When you came to California, Cassie had been single for three years and I'd dated 40 people in 60 weeks and damned if I can name 5 of them now. Different coping strategies for the same fucking problem – we both feel like fucking _criminals_ if we come anywhere near each other. Dean, you're the glue that holds us together, because we love you, because you love us. When I'm with you and Cassie I don't feel like I'm fucking _broken_ because I think my brother's cock is the second hottest dick on the planet. And yes, yours is first, and don't let it go to your fucking head. You don't treat us like we're broken or weird, you treat us like we're family, and that sex is just another thing family does for each oth...er..."

The words trailed off. Jimmy looked at Dean as if he'd never seen him before. Sick horror washed over Dean. Jimmy thought Dean had sex with his family - had sex with Sam? Sam was just a kid! It wasn't like Jimmy and Cas, who were the same age, who discovered each other together.

"No," growled Dean

"Dean-"

"No," Dean repeated furiously. "That thing you're thinking. No. That never happened. I'd have fucking castrated myself before I would have ever let it happen."

The words brought Jimmy up short. "Wait, what are _you_ thinking?"

"Sam! And _no_ _."_

All Dean's life, his one job, the only thing he'd ever been good at, the only thing he'd ever succeeded at, was looking after Sam. Dean would never have violated Sam's trust like that. That Jimmy could even believe it of Dean was nauseating.

He caught Jimmy's eyes, saw the concern in them, the horror and disgust painting his features.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" Dean demanded. Jimmy probably felt judged, felt that Dean's condemnation of the possibility that Dean had touched Sam amounted to a condemnation of Jimmy and Castiel's love. As if the many differences between the two situations weren't fucking patently obvious!

"Knock it off, you son of a bitch!"

"Dean..." Jimmy said tentatively. "Did John...?

Dean was floored. That was the last thing he'd expected Jimmy to say. It was also utterly inconceivable. No matter Dean's suspicions on the sources of his father's virulent homophobia, John Winchester would never have laid hands on another man, he'd never have laid hands on Dean.

John would have needed to respect Dean first.

"Is that why...all of this?" Hesitancy caused the words to come slowly, Jimmy's cautious expression making it clear he had no idea how Dean would react. Dean should punch him in the fucking face. "Is that why the taking care of others, and the protecting Sam, and the 'family and love equal sex,' and..."

The words stirred agonizing, shameful memories, soliciting men outside Harvelle's, offering a pretty face, pink lips, a sultry mouth to soothe a needy cock in exchange for pocket change. That was all Dean was worth, and even two jobs didn't earn enough for Sam's school things, for new shoes for the boy growing so fast that Dean couldn't keep up, for Sam to have pocket money and Christmas gifts. Any pennies that were left Dean hid against the years of college to come, every back alley blow job paid for a minute or two of class at Stanford.

"Drop it, Jimmy." There was no way Dean was ever sharing that, though. How much more disgusted would Jimmy look if he knew the truth? At least John was family. At least if it had been John it would have meant that his father had ever wanted Dean just because he was Dean. Instead, Dean had solicited strangers, no questions asked, no complaints if their hands strayed on his body, the endless whisper of fear wondering what would happen if one of them every tried to take more than he was willing to give. He'd not have been able to stop them. It was only thanks to a miracle that none of them had.

"...and the acceptance of us, and the insistence that your emotional, physical, and sexual needs are irrelevant as long as the other person is having a good time, and the need to give over control so completely?"

"I said DROP IT." It has been the best way Dean had to make the money his family needed. He did what he had to do, then as always.

Leaning forward, Jimmy reached out towards Dean, delicate fingers curving, about to cup his cheek.

"I swear to God, Jimmy Novak, if you touch me right now I will get in this car and drive to Lawrence and I will never look back."

Jimmy froze, hand still outstretched.

If Jimmy touched him, he'd break.

John had never treated him the same, never looked at him the same, never respected him again. It was like Dean ceased to exist. He was beneath notice. No amount of playing the man ever fixed it, no amount of working more, no amount of loyalty or respect or "yes sir" or covering bar tabs or caring for Sammy ever got Dean what he wanted, what he needed, from his father.

If Jimmy touched him, he'd shatter, there'd be no putting him back together again.

"You don't know _shit_ about my dad, you understand?" roared Dean. "You don't know a damn fucking thing about him, and you don't know a damn fucking thing about me. I did what I had to do for my family. I kept us afloat, and I got Sammy through school, and he's almost there – he's almost where he needs to be, where he deserves to be. Just a little bit more and he'll be there, and then he can have what he deserves, and I can have what I deserve, and it'll be done."

"What _do_ you deserve, Dean?" Jimmy's quiet words fell like shouts into the still night air.

"You know the answer to that," said Dean.

Jimmy slid off the hood of the car and stood before Dean, expression angry and earnest.

"I really don't," Jimmy said with an emphatic gesture. "All you ever talk about are all the things you _don't_ deserve. You don't deserve pleasure, or happiness, or a roof of your head, or security, or an education, or three square a day. You don't deserve Cas. You don't deserve me. You don't deserve to be touched in ways that bring you pleasure. You don't deserve to be given aftercare. You're all about what you can't have. What _can_ you have, Dean?"

"Ice cold margaritas on a beach in Tijuana," said Dean flippantly, hopping down from the hood of the Impala and circling to the driver's door, dodging Jimmy as he did so. He couldn't do this anymore. He had to leave. He had to go to Lawrence.

"You're such a fucking asshole," said Jimmy, tone incredulous and filled with wonder.

"You know you love it," replied Dean unthinkingly with a cocky grin. He pulled the car door open.

"Yes! I do. For fucksake Dean, I really, really do!" Jimmy closed the space between them, slammed the car door shut, and shouted in Dean's face, " _I love you_ _Dean Winchester_." Despite himself, Dean winced at Jimmy's violent movements and loud words, more memories roiling of nights, so many nights, wondering what John's mood would be, what new crime he'd think of to condemn and punish Dean for. "What the fuck do you think that _means_? You're not disposable to me. You're not a means to an end. You're not temporary. You're not replaceable. You're not a quick fix. You're _essential_. And I'm not sitting on the other end of the line making demands, either. It's not because you're useful, because you clean the apartment or because you pay for Sam's textbooks. It's not because you're the best fuck ever or because you're fucking gorgeous and toned and have the cutest damn dimples over your ass or because you behave well for Cassie. It's not because you have a cool car and a leather jacket and a carefully cultivated bad boy attitude. It's not because you're a good mechanic and make decent money when you've got full time work. It's not even because you take care of Cassie and make him happy. I love you because you're _you_ , and when I'm with you, I'm _me_ and Castiel is _Cas_ _tiel_ _._ We can be ourselves together, no need to put on an act, no need to watch every word, every gesture lest we give ourselves away. We've never been able to be ourselves with _anyone_. You asked me before what I want, Dean? It's fucking simple. All I want is for the three of us to be together. That's it. I don't give a shit if you want to leave, because I'm better – we're better – when you're around. No, not even that. I _am_ when you're around. When you're not around, I'm just... _not_. I lived as _not_ for almost 7 fucking years before you came to San Jose. I never want to feel that way again, not now that I know how it feels to _be_. What do you want, Dean? That's what I can't wrap my fucking head around."

Jimmy's anger and pain washed over Dean in waves and his resolution crumbled. Jimmy needed him. Cas needed him. It didn't matter if Dean wanted to leave. It would be selfish for Dean to cause both of them to suffer just because staying was difficult for him. He had to stay, for their sakes.

A hand slapped hard against the roof of the Impala, rattling him, and Dean flinched and crouched in on himself slightly, subtly shifted away from the car and Jimmy's temper.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ go into fucking 'honor and duty' mode on me," snapped Jimmy. "You think we can't tell the instant you retreat from just being 'Dean' into being 'Sammy's protective older brother,' 'unreliable John's reliable son,' 'Cassie's best friend in times of need,' ' _the_ Dean whose slept with the whole cheerleading squad.' You should see what it does to your fucking eyes...you're unbelievably fucking _gorgeous_ eyes...when you withdraw like that." Jimmy deflated with a huge, shaky exhalation. When he met Dean's eyes once more, he looked lost. "It's like you die, man. You're still there, but you're fucking _gone,_ saying what you think we want you to say, doing what you think we want you to do, acting how you think we want you to act. You used to be like that almost every time I saw you, except sometimes when you were with Cassie you'd smile for no other reason than that you wanted to. It was beautiful, like watching the sunrise after a night of listening to God thunder across heaven. After John died, you'd seemed more relaxed. Without him constantly reminding you of how miserable you should be, sometimes you almost seem happy. After you got fired, though, you reverted to the old Dean. When Cas comes up with the right scene, we get you back for _days_ , _weeks_ occasionally, and it's fucking _wonderful_.If you can't stay with us because you want to, because you deserve to, than I'd rather you leave. Anything is better than living with you day in and day out with that look in your eyes."

Speechless, Dean stared as Jimmy breathed hard, hand tensing and relaxing against the top of the Impala.

"That's it," Jimmy said, tired and sad and drained. "That's what I came out here to say. You know what I think you deserve – what Cas and I both think you deserve. You know what we want. We love you, Dean." There was a pause, but Dean couldn't bring himself to say the words in his heart. "You said you loved us, but it's cool if that was just the endorphins talking. If it's a fucking lie, we're better off without you. I won't let you hurt Cassie by dragging him through this bullshit over and over again. If I had my way you'd come back and never leave, but it's not up to me. You know what's best for you, Dean. That's what you have to do. Not what's best for me, or what's best for Cas, or what's best for Sam. For once in his fucking life, Dean Winchester has to do what is best for Dean Winchester."

"Jimmy..." Dean trailed off. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to wrap the beautiful man in his arms, offer him comfort and hollow promises. That's all they'd be, though, empty words, as worthless as everything else about Dean.

"I'm out, Dean," Jimmy said with a weak attempt at a casual, light tone. He gave a coy wave. "See ya around, or something. Take care of yourself." Turning on a heel, Jimmy strode to his car.

"Jimmy!"

Watching him go was like the last fading glimpse of heaven.

There was no answer, no glance back. Jimmy got in the twin's Charger, the engine gave a sour coughing noise as the car started, headlights destroyed the dark of night, and Jimmy pulled out onto the service road, driving north back towards San Jose.

In the utter quiet and black that reigned in the wake of his departure, Dean had never felt more alone in his entire life.

* * *

...I promised angst, didn't I?

A couple people mentioned to me wanting to know more about the twins' backstory. It was awesome to get that request, since I already had this scene mostly outlined by the time people asked for that. :)

As of now, that's all I've got written - the rest is outlined. Now that this is all up, I'll get writing to finish up. Subscribe if you're worried about missing updates, but the whole thing should be done by tomorrow (Monday, July 13th) or Tuesday at the latest.


	5. Chapter 5

With a wordless roar of frustration, pain and loss, Dean punched the metal frame of the Impala's door as hard as he could. His fist made an unpleasant crunch and pain lanced up his arm. It was the least he deserved. He'd just let the best thing that ever happened to him fall apart. He'd walked away from Cas, and let Jimmy walk away from him. An aching hand to match his broken heart, suggested an errant thought before Dean could quash it.

Resolutely, hand throbbing, he opened the car door, climbed in, started the engine, and drove back on to the service road.

Dean turned south, turned his back on the past three years.

The first few minutes passed in anxiously craning his neck in search of a gas station. A sign pointed towards Bakersfield, and Dean followed the arrows and was rewarded moments later by a brightly illuminated Sunoco, cheerfully yellow and red. Dean pulled up and got out of the car, exchanged a meaningless wink with a brunette who gave both he and his car an appreciative look, and hurried into the convenience store to pre-pay. The young man behind the counter, cheeks pocked with acne scars, gave Dean a boyish smile that brought light to his pale blue eyes.

 _I miss Cas_.

Dean's heart lurched. He didn't miss anyone, he reprimanded himself harshly. He was just hungry. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. Glancing over the selection of junk food on display, he grabbed a package of Hostess Cupcakes and had the youth add it to Dean's tab. Hastily, he grabbed a coke as well. Cheap energy sources to get him through a long night and hopefully cure the emptiness inside him.

Grabbing his purchases, Dean returned to his car, pumped $30 worth of fuel into the Impala, and ignored the way the brunette sidled closer to him as she finished up with her own vehicle. Sex was the last the thing on his mind right then.

 _Hands brushed along Dean's back and a nail scraped a gentle line over his spine. With a contented sigh, Cas crowded closer behind his. The air of the room was cool, but beneath the blankets it was warm, peaceful, safe. Judging by Cas' steady breathing, he was mostly asleep, but he let out a long exhale that unmistakably whispered "Dean" into the quiet dawn light suffusing the room. On his other side, Jimmy mumbled something incoherent, rolled over and flopped an arm over Dean's waist, snuck it between Cas and Dean's bodies, used it to pull himself close to Dean._

 _Lips found the base of Dean's neck, faintly chapped and gentle. Cas shimmied flush with his back, brushed burgeoning hardness against Dean's ass, and the sense of serenity gave way to desire. A quiet moan ghosted from his mouth._

 _"You'll wake Jimmy up," Cas reprimanded in a tender whisper._

 _"Is that a problem?" breathed Dean. Cas chucked and slipped a hand down, gently massaging Dean's pucker, up his crack, along the smooth skin between his balls and hole. Pulsing, glowing heat spread from the touch, no urgency, no desperation, just need and want that curled up and basked like a cat in a pool of sunlight, Dean's unquiet thoughts were soothed by Castiel's presence and touch._

 _"Too late anyway," Jimmy muttered. He cuddled to Dean's front, brushing half-hard cock against half-hard cock, brushing lips against lips, as he reached around Dean to take hold of Cas' hips and rut his brother against the small of Dean's back. Cas groaned, low and breathy, taking up the movement, continuing it, rolling his hardness into the cleft of Dean's ass. Whispers died against Jimmy's skilled lips as they kissed tenderly. Reaching out, Dean wrapped a hand around Jimmy's thigh and nudged his legs apart, pressed his knee between Jimmy's, giving Cas easier access to Dean's hole, giving Jimmy something to rub against as he began to roll against Dean's pelvis._

 _Cas' finger breached him, unlubricated, and Dean clenched against the intrusion, drawing a moan from Cas, who shifted to slot his cock between Dean's legs and thrust roughly into the smooth skin there. Heavy breathing choked the air beneath the blanket with humidity, half-articulated words of lust escaped the three men._

 _"Just like that…" encouraged Cas, matching Jimmy's tempo._

 _"Touch me," Jimmy implored. Dean obliged, wrapping a hand around both their dicks, earning a satisfied groan and a sharp thrust into his grip._

 _"I love you." Cas' thrusts became more urgent, the hand pinned against the mattress fumbled at Dean's back, the other reached around to tease at Dean's nipples, scattering pleasure through Dean's body._

 _"Love you so much," echoed Jimmy against Dean's lips, drawing him into a deep kiss. Hand slick with pre-come, Dean began to stroke them together more firmly, working a staccato counterpoint to the thrusts against his body._

 _"Every day…want to start every day…just like this…" breathed Dean._

Honking yanked Dean from his reverie. He was sitting behind the wheel of the Impala, the car alive beneath him, blinker indicating his theoretical intention of turning right as he sat unmoving in the exit lane of the Sunoco. The brunette was flipping him off, tapping impatiently on the steering wheel of her car, flashing her eye beams at him. She honked again as she realized she finally had his attention.

Nothing was forcing him to turn right – to turn east – to continue his trek towards Lawrence. He could turn left.

The brunette pulled around him and flipped him off again as she passed at turned right in front of him.

Dean knocked his head against the steering wheel. A droplet of moisture splashed onto the back of his hand, and he stared at it in amazement. He was crying.

Fucking _brilliant_. Everything John Winchester had ever said about Dean was true.

 _Time to man up, Winchester_.

Dean turned east.

It'd been fun, but it was over now.

The route took him away from the highway, through Bakersfield, and out the other side into more miles upon miles of low hills. The highway led due east towards Interstate 15, dull in the darkness, traffic thinning as the hour grew later. There was hardly a town worth the name along this route. The next stretch of civilization was 4 hours away, when I-15 passed through Las Vegas. Vegas could be interesting, he supposed. He'd not even paused on his way through the first time. Gambling, drinking and debauchery sounded like an excellent distraction. It'd delay his unexpected, unplanned arrival in Lawrence, but Dean could snag a seat at a poker table or pick up a pool cue, hustle himself into enough money to afford a meal when he finally got to Lawrence, or to cover extra gas in case he hit the kind of traffic that demolished his already piss-poor fuel efficiency.

 _Or if he decided to turn around and go back to San Jose_.

That was not going to happen. Lawrence was his home, had always been his home. It had always been his plan to move back after Sam finally finished law school.

And wow, now he was so fucking pathetic that he was literally making shit up on the fly to justify his endlessly poor life choices. If he couldn't even be honest to himself, what was the fucking point? That hadn't been his plan. His plan had been to keep working at the mechanic, be best man when Sam and Sarah got hitched, save every penny he could against the time when the hoard of nephews and nieces he anticipated finally followed in Sammy's footsteps and went to college. Dean's plan was to be awesome Uncle Dean. Maybe, if he found the nerve, he'd open his own place restoring classic cars. Pigs might fucking sprout angel wings, too.

Popping the cap on the soda, hand spasming as he forgot about the injury he'd done himself punching the car, Dean took a chug of coke that jolted sugar and caffeine straight to his brain. He followed up by stuffing a cupcake into his mouth whole, chewing hugely and sloppily, licking the white cream off his mouth.

 _The hungry look in Jimmy's eyes as he watched Dean lick his lower lip was just as delicious as the cupcake filling. Before Dean could clean his upper lip, Jimmy was on him, kissing, sucking, sharing the sweet flavor, murmuring wordless approval. Cas walked into the room, saw them making out, and got the dopiest, most endearing smile on his face. Without a moment's hesitation, Cas shifted his direction to join them, using deft hands to encourage Jimmy to straddle Dean's legs, settle into his lap. Entirely on board, Jimmy deepened the kiss, hands on Dean's chin, urging Dean to lean his head back, spread his lips around Jimmy's tongue as Dean so often spread his legs for the other man's cock. Leaning close, Cas pressed against Jimmy's back, lightly hovered over Dean's knees, placed his face so close to theirs that Dean could feel the ghost of Cas' breath as he whispered, "just like that, yeah, like that,_ God _I love that you two want each other as much as I want each of you." Laying his hands on Jimmy's hips, Cas firmly steered his brother to rub against Dean, cocks twitching with interest going hard rapidly as the potential for sex edged towards the certainty of it._

 _"You are both perfect, so perfect, so gorgeous," Cas continued fervently. Pleasure sparked through Dean as Jimmy's arousal brushed against his through the fabric of their pants. There were way too many clothes involved in this scenario. Reaching around Jimmy's body, Dean lifted the cloth of Jimmy's shirt, exposing the muscles and slight ridges of Jimmy's lower back. Fumbling awkwardly, yet reciprocating Jimmy's increasingly passionate kisses, Dean managed to get his hands on the button of Cas' pants, lower the zipper on his fly, tease through the fabric of his boxers until he found and freed Cas cock. Hot, precious flesh quivered beneath Dean's touch, brushed a trail of pre-come over Jimmy's skin. Both men groaned, a sound that jolted erotically straight to Dean's erection. Breathing hard, grinning at the effect he'd had on the two gorgeous twins, Dean cupped his hand loosely and began to stroke Cas._

 _"I never thought I'd get to have this," moaned Cas, a word-for-word echo of Dean's own thoughts. "I never thought I'd get to have you both."_

 _"How'd we get this fucking lucky, brother?" Jimmy breathed, rocking his hips back against Cas' cock, forward into Dean's._

 _"Clean living," said Cas, huffing laughs that rattled through Dean's body. Before they continue, all three dissolved in laughter._

Talk about a fucking pipe dream. If Dean went back, he'd screw up being an uncle, he'd screw up opening his own business, he'd screw up the relationship between the Novak brothers. He'd blow everything, like always.

The saddest fucking R2-D2 sound _ever_ echoed through the quiet vehicle.

Dean slammed on the brakes. Behind him, the deep thrum of a truck horn sounded, growing louder and higher pitched until a semi barreled by him, swerving to barely avoid plowing in to him. Gasping for air, he pulled the Impala into the shoulder before someone rear-ended him to kingdom come.

With shaking hands, Dean pulled his cell out of his pocket, intent on turning it off. As the screen flashed to life, Dean couldn't help but glimpse what it said.

 _Jimmy Novak, 4 new text messages_

 _Sammy Sasquatch, 23 new text messages_

 _Sammy Sasquatch, 1 missed phone call_

 _Castiel, 11 new text messages_

What a fucking pain in the ass _bitch_ his brother was! The thought was harsh, but the smile on Dean's lips belied it. He took his finger from the power button and stared at the screen until the backlight timed out, leaving the ghost of his homescreen, an image of the Impala, burned into his retinas.

Dean activated the screen again. There was nothing any of them could say that would change his mind, not now, but he should at least let Sam know that he hadn't driven into a ditch. That was the only reason he was checking his texts. Obviously. As soon as he'd reassured his brother, he'd turn the phone off, conserve the battery until he could replace the charger he'd driven off without.

Jimmy's texts were the easiest to read through. Since Dean couldn't imagine Jimmy would say anything via text message that he hadn't said to Dean's face when they'd spoken earlier, it was simple to open up the list and scan through the four short messages that Jimmy had left for him.

 _Jimmy Novak (3:03 PM): Why the fuck are you driving away, Dean?_

 _Jimmy Novak (3:04 PM): I'm fucking serious, Winchester. Turn that ridiculous monstrosity you call a car around and get your ass back here._

 _Jimmy Novak (3:06 PM): We've got to talk this shit over like mature fucking adults. Stop throwing a tantrum just because of fucking premature ejaculation._

 _Jimmy Novak (3:32 PM): I'm sorry I lost my temper. Come back, Dean. We really do need to talk._

There were no more after that, presumably because Jimmy had taken to the road in hot pursuit or something. There'd be no more from Jimmy for some time, as he must yet be hours away from San Jose as he drove him.

The thought of checking the messages from Cas was agonizing, and Dean didn't really need to do so. The idea, after all, was to check in with Sam. That was all.

 _Sammy Sasquatch (3:05 PM): WHAT DID YOU DO DEAN?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (3:11 PM): Jimmy's asked me to meet him at their place. What's going on?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (3:12 PM): Answer your damn texts! Unless you're driving. Then, pull over, and answer your damn texts!_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (3:31 PM): I've never seen Cas this upset, Dean. He just wants to talk to you. He's worried about you._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (3:32 PM): I'm worried about you too._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (3:45 PM): Whenever you get this, would you call me?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:11 PM): Seriously, Dean. You don't have to talk to Cas or Jimmy if you don't want to, but fill me in, dude._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:12 PM): I just want to help._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:26 PM): Your GPS says you're in Los Banos. lmao._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:27 PM): But seriously, where do you think you're going, Dean?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:29 PM): Wait. No. You're going to Lawrence, aren't you._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:30 PM): You are. You dumbass, why are you going to Lawrence?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:32 PM): Whatever you think is there for you, Dean, how can it possibly be more important than what you have in San Jose?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:34 PM): You've actually seemed happy the last few months. It's been awesome._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:37 PM): Is this about work? You'll get a job, Dean, I know you will._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:39 PM): I don't need money from you anymore. Sarah and I are fine. I've got a paying internship lined up for the summer on top of my work-study._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:41 PM): By the way…surprise, I got the internship._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:44 PM): Sorry. Really not the moment._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (4:52 PM): Seriously, Dean. It's been awesome to have you around. It's been awesome to see you smile._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (5:41 PM): Alright, I finally got Cas to rest. Listen, Dean. I know you're a moron, but you've got a good thing going here and I can't believe you're going to blow it over some kind of hissy fit. Neither Jimmy nor Cas would tell me what happened, so I assume it has something to do with sex. I'm not 13 anymore, you don't have to pretend you aren't sleeping with Cas. I'd ask what you think you've possibly got waiting for you in Lawrence that's better than what – than who – you've got waiting for you here, but that's not what this is about, is it? It's exactly the opposite. There's nothing for you in Lawrence, is there, Dean? Just bad memories that'll make you feel like trash, Jo Harvelle flirting with you for shits and giggles, Ellen mothering you and baking you pie, Bobby staring sympathy at your back and calling you an idiot to your face._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (5:43 PM): 1 Missed Phone Call_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (5:52 PM): I think Cas is in love with you, Dean._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (6:11 PM): I think you're in love with him, too._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (6:43 PM): Just think it through, Dean. Don't do anything stupid._

Rubbing his forehead with his off-hand, Dean skimmed through all of Sam's messages twice before setting fingers to digital key pad to come up with some kind of response. This hadn't been a good idea. He hadn't thought that Sam would figure him out so completely, though he supposed he should have expected it. He knew that kid better than anyone, and Sam was the same way towards him. Until Dean met Cas, there'd not been anyone else in Dean's life but Sam, and before Sam left for college, he'd only had a small group of friends. Quickly, Dean one-handedly typed out a reply, his right hand too achy to manipulate the small touch screen buttons.

 _Yep, off to Lawrence, Sammy. See you on the flip side. I'll call in a few days once things have settled down. I'll tell Ellen you love her. She might even believe me. Internship is fucking awesome. I knew you had that shit nailed. Drop the work study, I got you covered for the difference._

His finger hovered over the send button.

The phone pinged R2-D2 again and automatically, annoyingly, transferred his screen to the string of text messages from Cas.

 _Castiel (3:01 PM): We can talk about this later, Dean, it's alright. Come back. You should have something to eat and drink at least._

 _Castiel (3:14 PM): I need you to understand, I'm frustrated that you will not communicate with us, but I'm not angry with you that you violated your orders._

 _Castiel (3:16 PM): It was a poorly thought out scene. That's my fault, Dean. I'm supposed to set up situations that show you how strong you can be. If that doesn't happen, it means I failed._

 _Castiel (3:17 PM): I failed you, Dean._

 _Castiel (3:20 PM): I'm sorry._

 _Castiel (3:48 PM): Sam and Jimmy don't want you to know, but they've activated the GPS on your phone and Jimmy is driving after you, with Sam reporting to him everywhere you go. Turning off your phone would probably cut off their access to the GPS. I'm not sure what they have in mind, they won't tell me. Whatever it is, you don't have to talk with Jimmy if you don't want to. I'll try to warn you when he's close. I'll never force you to talk to me, but I wish you would._

 _Castiel (4:02 PM): That's not what I meant. I meant, if you think you need to go, you should go. It's alright. I understand. Things haven't been easy for you in San Jose. You need to do what is best for you._

 _Castiel (4:04 PM): Be careful, though, please! Have you eaten since breakfast? You should have a meal, and something to drink. This morning was pretty intense for you. Remember to watch out for sub drop._

 _Castiel (4:45 PM): No matter what, I'm always here if you want to talk._

 _Castiel (7:13 PM): Dean, Jimmy's found you. If you don't want to talk with him, you have to go. It's okay. He's angry, but he'll calm down when he's had a few days to think about it. He'll understand. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do._

 _Castiel (9:37 PM): Jimmy called and told me you're driving to Lawrence. I know it's been frustrating for you in San Jose, having the mechanic close, being under-employed, losing your apartment. Going to Lawrence will definitely help. I'm glad you're going somewhere that will enable you to restore the security that you felt you lost when the garage went out of business. It's a good choice. I'd appreciate it if you would text me and let me know when you get there safely._

 _Castiel (9:41 PM): I love you, Dean._

By the time Dean finished reading the sequence, he was silently weeping. He was lower than dirt. Hell was not a deep enough pit for him. After the way Dean had behaved that day, the things he had said to Cas, Dean felt like a criminal reading the texts that Cas had sent.

 _He's wishing you well in Lawrence. He wants you gone, just like you thought._

That wasn't true. Even as low as he felt, Dean couldn't believe that was true. The messages reflected Cas doing what he always did when he didn't want to sway Dean's decision making – carefully skirting the issues, making sure not to express any of his own desires, hopes, wants. Dean could perfectly picture the carefully maintained impassive expression that Cas always wore during such conversations. His lips were quirked in the slightest of frowns, his brows lowered, but the depth of emotion in his eyes always betrayed him, as did the way he would start fiddling with anything he could snag between his fingers. The screen on Dean's phone went blank, stealing away Cas' words, stealing away Dean's imagined vision of a beautiful angel peering at him with earnest blue eyes.

 _I love you, too, Cas._

There wasn't the least doubt in his mind. He'd never felt affection with such conviction in his life. Even what he felt for his brother was nothing like it. Dean loved Sam, of course, but it was a deep, quiet bond, eternal and caring, protective but largely dormant. It wasn't something Dean ever had to say, wasn't something he ever needed to share. Dean didn't have to think about loving Sam, he just did. This felt completely different, bright and passionate, so pleasurable that it burned painfully in his depressed thoughts, so urgent it was undeniable. He wanted to be with Cas that instant. He wanted to kiss that imagined concerned look off his handsome face. He wanted to give Jimmy a wink and have the twin sneak up behind Cas and massage Cas' back soothingly at the same time, wanted four sets of hands to caress and ease Dean's angel into tears of happiness. He wanted to fall into bed with both of them, make love, fall asleep sated and content.

 _I really, seriously, truly fucking love Cas. And Jimmy. God, I love them both. This is fucking impossible._

"I am a Jedi," Luke Skywalker's voice incongruously interrupted Dean's thoughts. The screen lit up. _Sammy Sasquatch, 1 new text message_.

 _Sammy Sasquatch (9:46 PM): Gimme a call when you stop for the night. I don't care how late it is. Just tell me you're alright, okay? I'm really worried about you._

Dean's unsent text message to Sam, casually tossing out his departure like it didn't mean a damn thing to himself or anyone, yet waited in the "send" box. For an instant, Dean considered hitting the button and having that be that. He could get on the road to Lawrence again. Everything hurt right now, but that was because Dean had let it get to him. Once he was busy again, the pain would stop, the memories would fade, and he could go back to doing what had to be done.

The thought didn't make him feel even a little bit better.

With a swipe over the key pad, Dean deleted the message to Sam and typed a new one.

 _Dean (9:48 PM): What should I do, Sammy?_

Silence stretched out so long that Dean thought his brother wasn't going to reply. The screen went black. A cop car drove by slowly, the officer within giving Dean a worried look which Dean shook off with a thumbs up, earning him a half-smile from her before she sped off in pursuit of someone she could give a ticket to.

 _Need to hit the road, need to get moving, need to move on, need to get away…_

"I am a Jedi."

 _Sam Sasquatch (9:52 PM): No way, Dean. I'm not going to give you orders like dad would have. I'm not going to tell you what I want you to do, cause you'll do it without thinking. I'm not going to give you permission. You gotta know, somewhere inside yourself, what you want. Forget about everyone else. What do you want?_

The question stirred countless memories. Walking along the Embarcadero, holding Cas' hand, Jimmy's arm around his shoulder, all three laughing at some forgotten quip Jimmy had made. Sharing a table at the food court, feasting on burgers and ice cream as they ran down Cas' food plan before the end of the semester stole those last few dollars away forever. Coming home from work smeared and smudged with motor oil and dirt to be greeted by matching mischievous grins on matching gorgeous faces as the two brothers stripped him and dragged him into the shower. Leaving Cas after school because he had to go to work, clocking in, facing a long 8 hour shift after a long day at school with the prospect of a long night when he finally got home, gloomy and miserable until Cas walked in, wordlessly stepped behind the counter and sank down out of sight, out of view of the cameras and the customers, so that no one would be able to see that Dean wasn't alone, no one would know that the two boys were hanging out despite the injunctions of both their parents. Fluttering butterflies in his stomach as he found a note on the small table beside the bedroom door, wondering what they'd cooked up, wondering how amazing the rest of the day was going to be, insides melting with affection knowing how much effort Cas put in to planning and executing the scenes that drove Dean crazy with desire and pleasure. Meeting up with Jimmy at the mall, $20 in his pocket to buy Cas a Christmas present, searching store after store as Jimmy picked up only the most ridiculous things he could find – a book entitled "The Chicken Whisperer's Guide to Keeping Chickens," a set of golf club cozies shaped like duck heads, a baby pacifier painted to look like gold bling, a banana-shaped cutter whose only function was to perfectly slice bananas - and Jimmy very seriously explained why each would make the perfect gift for his brother. Sitting on the couch, watching Star Wars, the movie so well known to the three of them that they could recite every line, until they muted the movie and each played a part, Cas mimicking Luke's whiny drawl, Jimmy pantomiming Leia in falsetto, Dean smirking the whole time he echoed Han, through all of Empire Strikes Back until they dissolved in tears of sheer hilarity at Cas' attempt to imitate Luke's distress at learning that Vader was his father.

 _Dean (9:55 PM): I'm with both of them._

 _Dean (9:55 PM): Not just Cas._

 _Dean (9:56 PM): In case you didn't know._

 _Dean (9:57 PM): I'm that much of a selfish prick._

Before Dean could type more, "I am a Jedi" interrupted him again.

 _Sammy Sasquatch (9:57 PM): Seriously, Dean, how stupid do you think I am?_

 _Sammy Sasquatch (9:57 PM): Of course I knew that._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (9:58 PM): If they're okay with it and you're okay with it that doesn't make you selfish. It makes you poly._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (9:59 PM): As long as you're happy, that's all I care about._

 _Dean (10:00 PM): Bitch._

 _Sammy Sasquatch (10:00 PM): Jerk_

The moment stretched out, the screen dimmed and then darkened, and Dean stared at it blankly and wondered what the hell happened next. Dean's desires were unequivocal. However, that didn't change any of the other factors. Sam needed money for school and for his wedding. In San Jose, Dean only worked 15 hours a week and didn't earn enough to make ends meet. Jimmy and Cas would be better off without him. Dean was a mooch, he didn't deserve to have the two greatest guys on the planet take care of him, he was a freak for enjoying the things he did. As always, what Dean wanted didn't change the hard realities, what he wanted only made them harder to accept.

"I am a Jedi."

 _Sammy Sasquatch (10:06 PM): No matter what you decide, you'll always be my brother. I love you, Dean._

"Fuck," muttered Dean.

The road was deserted, not a headlight to be seen in either direction. Dean lost himself in the distance ahead of him, the darkness stretching east. Continuing straight ahead would be easy. He'd never have to look back.

He'd never have what he wanted.

If Jimmy could be believed, he'd deprive the twins of what they wanted, too.

Heart in his throat, Dean pocketed his phone, started the Impala, pulled a U-Turn, and headed west, back towards San Jose, back towards Cas and Jimmy.

 _Really, Dean? Going back to those two little bitches? Going back to being a mediocrity?_ As always, Dean's cruelest self-evaluations took on the voice of his father, whispered things all too similar to those John had actually said over and over while he yet lived.

 _I hope you're burning in hell, dad_.

What John Winchester thought didn't matter fuck all anymore. A corpse didn't get to tell Dean what he could and couldn't have, what he could and couldn't do. A corpse didn't get to decide whether Dean was a success or a failure. A corpse didn't decide what made Dean a man. After all the things John had said, Dean fucking hated him, yet as he felt something suspiciously like hope glowing warmly in his chest, for the first time Dean realized that despite that hatred, he'd allowed the ghost of John to whisper poison to him, and he'd fucking _listened_. Stupid-ass thing to do, really. Earlier, when Dean had realized he hated each other, it had hurt like a punch to the gut – hurt worse than banging up his hand on the Impala's frame. Driving back towards everything that mattered to him, Dean wondered if maybe it wasn't that he hated himself, but rather that he hated that internalized John Winchester, the one who criticized from beyond the grave, the one that had taken up permanent residence in Dean's brain and passed all the judgment that the real John no longer could.

Since when had Dean started taking advice from the ghost of a douche bag?

The realization didn't stop the vicious thoughts, but it dulled their power to hurt him. The roads were empty. Dean turned the radio up as high as it would go and tried not to think too much over the long drive home.

 _Home_.

Despite Dean's realization, despite his resolution to focus on what he wanted and ignore all the commentary from the peanut gallery in his head that suggested what a terrible fucking idea it was to go back to San Jose, the drive was long and dull and frayed on his nerves. What if he'd judged everything wrong? What if Cas meant exactly as he said, that he was pleased at Dean's decision and didn't think Dean should come back? What if Jimmy had the whole thing wrong, or was full of shit? Hell, what if both twins hadn't figured out what was so obvious to Dean, that they were more into each other than either was in to Dean? There were so many ways that returning could go catastrophically wrong. The closer he got to San Jose, the more tired he grew, and the harder it was not to give credence to his own suppositions. Driving down the streets of the city, sidewalks deserted, traffic light in the dark after midnight on a weekday, he castigated himself with all the reasons he should turn around.

All those arguments gave way before the simple truth that he'd already driven too far. He'd never be able to afford enough fuel to get to Lawrence. He was committed now. In truth, he'd been committed the instant he'd made the U-Turn. The only direction available to him was the one he was pointing in.

 _Towards home_.

Home was wherever Sam was, wherever Cas was, wherever Jimmy was.

The gas tank was nearly empty and the caffeine and sugar rush had long since worn off when Dean pulled on to Stardust Drive. The narrow, looping street was dead at 2 in the morning and the rumble of the Impala's engine was unnaturally loud as he pulled into the dead end near the apartment complex. Dean's heart pounded uncontrollably. All the windows of the building were dark except the one showing a view of the Cas and Jimmy's living room.

 _This is a terrible idea. Even if you don't go to Lawrence, you should get back in the Impala, turn around and_ go.

Forcing himself to take one step after another, Dean walked to the front door. His hands trembled as he unlocked it, his stomach twisted nauseatingly. A queasy thought suggested that the Hostess Cupcakes wouldn't taste nearly as good coming back up as they had going down, especially when added to the acidic burn of bile and Coca Cola.

 _They're going to be angry and upset – justifiably so. They're going to yell at you. They're going to realize how wrong they were to want you back the minute you walk in the door and they see you again._

Dean's feet felt leaden as he plodded up the stairs. Two flights had never seemed more insurmountable. All he could think would be how nice it would be to walk in the door and have everything be ordinary, routine, a regular Thursday night, Cas and Jimmy already asleep, kindly leaving the light on for him. Dean would open the door as quietly as he could, strip, climb into bed, bump Jimmy into the middle because the alternative would require bothering them too much. He'd be greeted by sleepy mumbles welcoming him home, forgotten as soon as spoken, and he'd drift off to the sound of their breathing.

How much he wanted that simple fantasy to be truth quelled every doubt that bubbled from the cesspool that was his brain.

Nervously, he stopped in front of the door, shifting from foot to foot. He had the key, of course, but it felt weird to just walk in. _Fucking…man up, Winchester!_ Dean pulled out his keys, tinkling as he found the right one, and he knocked hesitantly by way of warning before putting unlocking and letting himself in.

Within the apartment, everything was quiet. The lamp in the living room seemed bright compared to the evening and cast enough light to show that no one was home. Through the open bedroom door, shadows showed the bed neatly made and unslept in, the kitchenette reverberated with the faint hum of the refrigerator, and the only sign of anything unusual was a pillow and blanket left in a disheveled heap on the sofa.

After all of that, they had left without him.

Anger flared in Dean's breast, difficult to quell despite how utterly irrational he knew he was being. They had no way of knowing he was coming back. Quite the contrary, he'd given them every reason to think that he wasn't. Knowing that changed nothing, though, the tension that had him taut as a wire snapped and bounced instantly into ire. How _dare_ they say all those things, and then _leave_? They hadn't even texted him to say where they were going. They'd not even given him a chance, hadn't trusted for an instant that he'd return. Less than 12 hours after he stormed from the apartment and they'd already given Dean up for lost. It was as he'd thought: the twins accommodated to his absence easily. They didn't need him. All they needed was each other. Scowling, he turned a circle around the living room disbelievingly, unsure what the fuck he was supposed to do next.

All his desires and instincts clamored for _home_ , and everything that simple word entailed. Maybe he was right, and they'd moved on just that quickly. It didn't matter. Dean hadn't moved on. He had to speak with the twins.

Where the fuck could they have gone at 2 AM on a Friday morning?

Something caught Dean's eye, and his froze, shocked.

There was a note on the table beside the bedroom door.

They wanted to _scene_? No, that was completely impossible. Curiosity and trepidation consumed him, and without realizing he'd moved, Dean found himself standing beside the table, holding the paper in a hand that shook so violently that he had trouble tracking the words written in Cas' neat script, splotched at intervals by tear stains.

 _Dean, if you're reading this, I'm so sorry. I lied in my text messages. I promised I'd never lie to you, but I did so today repeatedly and I feel awful about it. It's not okay if you leave. I feel so trapped. I can't win. If I tell you the truth, you'll come back because you feel guilty. If I lie and say that I don't mind, you'll think I really mean it, you'll think that I don't want you, and you'll leave. I don't want you to leave. I never want you to leave. I love you so much, Dean. You and Jimmy are all I have, you're all I've ever had. I need you. If you're reading this, stay. Please, stay. If you're even seeing this note, it means you came back, right? Why did you come back, Dean? You don't have to stay. You really don't have to. It's okay. I know you don't need me to take care of you. You can take care of yourself, Dean. You're amazing. You're so amazing I can't believe you're real. Promise me you'll take care of yourself._

The ink switched to bright pink and Jimmy's scrawl was even less legible than ever.

 _Yo, Dean, Cassie hasn't eaten since breakfast, so we're going to Rocco's. If you're reading this, maybe we'll see you later. Personally, I'm skeptical, but hope springs eternal something something. If you're reading this, I love you too, Dean._

 _P.S. Sorry Cassie's letter went off the rail. You know how he gets._

Dean huffed a shaky breath out.

 _One last chance to escape, Dean. Put the note back on the table, lock the door behind you, get back in the Impala, and they'll never know you were in the apartment. They never have to know you were here. You can go anywhere in the world. You can be free, no strings attached, no one to tell you what to do, no one to pity you over your oh-so-troubled past, no one to care what you do or who you do it to._

What did Jimmy mean, 'how Cassie gets?' Despite the casual assumption that Cas was extremely upset, evident in everything Jimmy had said, Dean had never truly seen Cas appear anything other than calm and almost choked with self-control. The key to interacting with Cas was reading all the subtle signs that his exterior belied his interior, and Dean flattered himself that he was pretty good at that. Jimmy had thought he was, anyway. Jimmy's casual description of Cas crying had been a blow to Dean. Dean had never seen Cas cry, and the thought that Cas might cry because of _him_ was repellent. The level of distraught communicated in every contradictory line of Cas' letter was frightening.

 _Have to go home_.

The paper fluttered to the floor as Dean bolted out the door, pulled it shut behind him relying on the catch lock, and jumped the stairs two at a time. Before he knew it, he was in the Impala, pulling on to the main streets, thoughts dull with fatigue and hands shaking as he gripped the steering wheel. A throb of pain through his right hand gave him a burst of head-clearing adrenaline, and he tightened his fist around the plastic to increase that pain, to help him focus.

It wasn't a delusion that Jimmy and Cas wanted him to come back. They wanted the same thing that he wanted.

Rocco's was the epitome of a diner. Sleek chrome covered the lower parts of the exterior walls, enormous windows showed a view into a dimly lit space crowded with tables and booths, and chrome trim highlighted by neon blue lights topped the windows. A large glowing sign over the door read _Rocco's Diner, Open 24 Hours_ and the smell of pancakes and bacon suffused the air the instant Dean parked the Impala and stepped outside. The evening was cool and damp, a mist beginning to curl around the buildings and gather in the depressions, and Dean hunched his shoulders inside his leather coat.

 _You can still prove you're a man, Dean. A man doesn't need anyone. A man doesn't want anything but a six pack and a hot piece of ass. A real man doesn't wash the dishes or clean the house or do the cooking. Real men don't say they're sorry. Real men don't talk about their feelings. Real men give orders, and have those orders obeyed. Real men are in charge. Real men_ never _show weakness._

Fuck it. If being a _real man_ meant losing Cas and Jimmy, it wasn't fucking worth it.

 _Call me Mrs. Winchester. No. Call me Mrs. Novak._

A silly grin won over his face at the absurd thought, his cheeks flushing. Yeah, he was whipped, and he fucking _loved_ it.

Shaking the tension from his back, Dean walked into Rocco's. A waitress behind the counter glanced up, recognized him, and went back to futzing with the coffee maker. The diner was nearly empty. An early morning laborer was reading a newspaper and nursing a steaming cup of coffee. A pair of drunks – or possibly stoners – were stabbing forks into the same piece of pie with matching looks of bliss like they'd found Nirvana and it was lemon meringue flavored. He didn't see the twins anywhere.

 _Just my luck, we pass in the night, them going home, me coming here._

"Cas, are we going to have to carry you home?" Sam's bright voice, surprisingly chipper considering the hour, floated across the room from a booth around the corner on the other side of the restaurant. It wasn't sincere – that was the tone Sammy assumed when he was taking care of someone and knew he couldn't afford to show how he actually felt – but Dean doubted anyone but himself and maybe Sarah would recognize the subtle differences.

A faint, incomprehensible mumble answered. Dean started that way.

"What he means is, no falling asleep in public unless you want to wake up with a sharpie mustache," said Jimmy. Unlike Sam, Jimmy's cheer was obviously only skin deep.

Rounding the corner, Dean still couldn't see them, the deep booths hiding them from his scan of the room. His heart pounded. They couldn't be more than a few feet away. He stopped short, the sudden image of their reactions unbearable. What if they got mad at him, yelled in public, made a scene? His hand shook. Desperately, he rubbed a thumb against his injured knuckles, spiking pain through his harm and behind his eyes, something to focus on other than the burst of anxiety that threatened to drown him, threatened to drive him to turn around without ever letting them know he'd been there.

 _I want this. I have to face the consequence of my actions if I'm to have what I want._

" 'm fine," muttered Cas. To prove the words, two legs peaked out from one of the booths as Cas slid off the bench seat and into Dean's view. He looked utterly exhausted, face drawn and pale, hair a mess. He was wearing the same outfit as earlier, though his vest was unbuttoned and shirt and pants were both rumpled. Behind his glasses, Cas' eyes were bloodshot and glued to the floor. Tottering as he rose, Cas put a hand on the top of the seat and slumped into a sad sigh.

Easily, hands down, the most fucking _beautiful_ human being Dean had ever seen. A smile quirked his lips, but he couldn't make himself move, couldn't make himself speak.

A look of exhausted determination swept over Cas' features, and the angel looked up.

Their eyes met.

Cas' jaw dropped and his eyes flooded with tears.

"What is it, Cas? The waitress bring us pie after all?" Jimmy asked jovially.

"Dean," whispered Cas.

"Huh?" said Jimmy. His face appeared behind Cas, leaning out of the booth, and his expression made a mirror to his brothers.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said with a half-wave. "Hey, Jimmy." Neither brother moved. Sam's head popped up over the top of the booth seating, looking not particularly the worst for wear, brown hair curling about his ears. He gave Dean a wry grin and rolled his eyes.

"Dean," Cas whispered again.

"Yeah, guess so," said Dean uncomfortably. "I got your texts. And the letter you wrote. Uh…I was going to go. To Lawrence. I guess you already knew that? I know that I don't have to stay. You're right, I can take care of myself." Jimmy and Cas both stared at him, matched in disheveled hair and blue eyes dark in the dim diner and thick stubble and increasingly pale faces. Dean waited for one of them to interject, and silence stretched out. "Yeah. Well. I know that you want me to stay. That's not why I'm here, though. I came back because I wanted to." A squeak so incongruous that Dean thought he must have imagined it escaped from Cas' throat. "I want to stay. I think…maybe…I think maybe I deserve to stay?"

A tear rolled down Cas' cheek, but still neither said a word. The encouraging look on Sam's face wasn't helping at all. Dean would have given a lot to _not_ have to say these things in front of his brother, or in public, or really it would be just _awesome_ if he didn't have to say them at all. Judging by the smug gleam in Sam's eyes, Sam was well aware of Dean's sentiments in that regard.

"Is that alright?" asked Dean hesitantly.

Sam gave him a thumbs up, but perfect eyes stayed dull in matching pained faces. Cas had gone so white Dean was afraid he'd faint, and he shifted his feet to be sure he'd ready to catch the older twin should it prove necessary.

"Cas? Jimmy?"

Why weren't they saying anything? He'd pegged this whole situation wrong after all. He'd thought they'd be happy or angry, but this bizarre paralysis? That just made no sense to him at all.

"Fuck," Dean mutter, raking a hand through his short hair. "This was a terrible idea. I'm sorry, I just thought…"

Before he could say anything else, he had an armful of Castiel. Hands touched his face, trailed over his back, lips kissed his cheeks, brushed his mouth, kissed him over and over again. "I'm sorry," cried Cas. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so glad you came back." Dean embraced him roughly, holding him close, supporting most of Cas' weight as his angel shook with fatigue and sorrow. "I love you, I love you so much I can't believe it. I didn't even realize how much until you were just _gone_ and…and…" Cas buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist, burying a hand in Dean's hair. "You're back, that's what matters. Everything else…there's nothing else. You're back."

"That's not true," Dean said. Cas went stiff against him, and all the possible interpretations of Dean's words occurred to him at once. "I mean, there _is_ something else," he continued soothingly. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. I'm the fuck up. You were absolutely right earlier. We need to talk about this shit. There's things I haven't told you…" Jimmy's eyes narrowed too knowingly, and Dean felt a sinking feeling as he wondered what conclusions Jimmy had drawn from Dean's outbursts when they'd spoken earlier. "…I have to do better."

"No…"

"Yes, Cas," said Dean firmly. "You deserve better. I'll try to be what you need."

"I decide what you deserve," whispered Cas in his ear, mouthing at his ear lobe.

"Yes, you do," Dean mumbled into his ear, praying that his brother didn't hear the exchange. The thought vanished to irrelevancy as Cas melted against Dean, leaning into him bonelessly, trembling, mouthing _I love you_ against Dean's neck over and over again in a way he found simultaneously extremely embarrassing and utterly endearing.

Yeah, Cas crying was fucking terrifying. His stoic best friend, usually given to expressing utter shock by quirking his head slightly to one side, was sobbing against Dean's neck. This was Dean's power over the man who loved him. This was what he could do to Cas if he weren't careful. Heart aching, he clutched Cas more tightly. It was on Dean to prevent that, to make sure that Cas never felt this upset again.

 _A real man doesn't make the person he loves cry_.

A lopsided grin came over Dean's face. That was a version of masculinity he could get behind.

"Well, uh, now that that's settled, I think I'm basically done here," said Sam awkwardly. "I'm going to go…over there…and take care of the tab. Would one of you ping me in the morning to let me know you're all doing okay?"

"Sure thing, bro," said Dean idly, focused intently on running a calming hand down Cas' spine. Each time, Cas quivered, kissed his neck, and mumbled his love again.

 _A real man protects the people he loves._

Shifting his hold on Cas, Dean looked towards the booth as Sammy brushed by and headed to the front of the restaurant. Jimmy still sat, shell-shocked and uncertain. Raising his eyebrows, Dean met Jimmy's eyes with a challenge, an invitation. Jimmy nodded slowly, rose, and walked to them. Arms wrapped around the two of them, one hand curling at Dean's waist, the other coming to rest over Dean's at the small of Cas' back. Jimmy dropped his head onto Dean's other shoulder, and Dean felt lips curve into a smile against his neck. Trembling, Cas shifted so that he had an arm around his brother as well as around Dean, and sighed contentedly.

Lips brushed Dean's ear. "I love you too, Dean," mouthed Jimmy almost silently. "It's awesome that you're here. If you ever hurt my brother again, no one will ever find your fucking body."

"I can't promise that I won't," confessed Dean, also speaking as softly as he could manage. "But I promise, when I've had time to cool my head, I'll come back. I'll _always_ come back."

There was a long pause. "I can live with that," muttered Jimmy. "We need to get Cassie home. He's had a rough day."

"We've all had a rough day," said Cas, his voice muffled against their clothing.

"Can we hitch a ride with you, Dean?" Jimmy continued. "Sam drove us over. Seemed to think I'd driven enough for one night, and Cas' arguments were over ruled when he couldn't pass a drunk test in the living room.

"Nope, you're gonna have to walk," grinned Dean, turning and steering them all towards the door.

"Jerk," muttered Cas, giving Dean a teasing slap on the back.

"Love you too, Cas," Dean said gently. Cas shuddered against him and stumbled. Instantly, Dean got an arm under Cas' shoulders, and Jimmy took his other side, and in a line, arms tangled together, Dean and Jimmy supporting most of Cas' weight, they headed out to the Impala.

* * *

So...good news and bad news folks.

Good news: Hey look, I posted 8k more words! I said the story would be between 25k and 30k, and bam, look, we're at like 29k. Exciting, right?

Bad news: Not actually done.

Good news: Not actually done! Probably gonna end up closer to 35k.

Bad news: Won't be done tonight.

Good news: Smut ahoy.

As usual, my estimates of the lengths of things bear little relationship to reality. There really is only one chapter left. I have no idea how long it will be, but I'll do my best to have it up tomorrow. About a month ago I chastised myself for the foolishness of giving hard-and-fast deadlines since I invariably seem to fail to meet them, usually because the stories get away from me and take longer than I anticipate. Though in this case my massive attack of mid-afternoon fatigue didn't help - two hours naps in the middle of my writing time are not conducive to getting stuff done.

Oh! And spurred on by thecrazyhippieone on AO3, brief investigation has uncovered the We-Vibe 4 Plus (go to www dot we-vibe dot com to take a peak, NSFW), a multi-function vibrator that can be operated by remote, is blue tooth enabled, or can be triggered entirely remotely using an iPhone or Android app. So, yes, the toy I concocted is not only possible, but something similar is on the market. (I was pretty sure it was, I could SWEAR I'd seen something like this at a sex toy booth I visited at a burlesque show...that sentence makes my life sound so much more interesting than it is...)


	6. Chapter 6

Getting into the car proved challenging due to Cas' complete unwillingness not to be in physical contact with Dean, compounded by Jimmy's complete unwillingness to not be in physical contact with Cas. Several minutes of awkward jockeying for position were necessary before all three were installed in the front seat of the Impala, a tight fit for three tall, full grown men. To make it work, Cas sat sideways in the middle, his chest pressed to the arm that Dean theoretically needed to switch gears, and Jimmy was plastered to Cas' back. Cas' hands roamed over Dean's body enticingly, more arousing and distracting than they should have been considering the day Dean they'd had. The lips working against the exposed skin of Dean's neck, massaging and nipping, did nothing to help, nor did Cas' increasingly heavy breathing. Daring to take his eyes from the road, Dean watched Jimmy massage his brother's body, unbutton his shirt, slip strong hands beneath the fabric to palm at the skin of Cas' chest. It took an emphatic blink to make himself look away from Jimmy's mischievous yet tender smile, Cas' lidded, passionate expression.

Thank fucking _God_ it wasn't a long drive.

"Want me to stop, Cassie?" whispered Jimmy. Cas shook his head emphatically, hair tickling Dean's cheek. Encouraged, Jimmy's movements grew more emphatic, and Cas wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and lay a hand on his thigh, holding him tightly, nuzzling his neck, whimpering. Where Cas' chest rested against Dean's arm, Dean could feel Jimmy's hand caressing Cas' breast, feel Cas' trembling indecision whether to slouch into contact with Dean or bow back against his brother. Unable to resist another peek, Dean glimpsed Jimmy pressed close to Cas' back, nibbling at Cas' ear, rutting his whole body against Cas'. With difficulty, Dean tore his eyes away and focused on the road, pointedly ignoring the alluring noise leaking from Cas' mouth.

"Do _you_ want me to stop, Dean?" asked Jimmy with a wicked chuckle.

"No," admitted Dean. As distracting as it was, feeling Cas come apart against his side was delicious. The twins deserved some pleasure after the ringer of a day Dean had put them through. A huff of humid air dampened Dean's neck as Cas moaned and Dean's erection firmed between his legs. The springs of the front seat creaked as the weight beside him shifted, and only sheer determination kept him looking straight ahead with his hands on the steering wheel.

Anticipation in the car built as Dean made the last couple of turns, and then he had the fascinating challenge of attempting to parallel park, craning his neck to each side to check how much space he had, while Cas crawled into every inch of personal space that he could access. If it hadn't been so damn hot it would have been damn annoying. By the time he had the car close enough to the curb, Dean was panting as if he'd pushed the car into place by hand, and Cas had a leg tucked between Dean's, a hand kneading the soft skin of Dean's stomach, and Dean's earlobe in his mouth. Shuddering with pleasure, Dean turned the car off, feeling the echoing shudder as the vehicle went still and quiet, and let his head fall back against the top of the bench seat.

He hadn't killed them all on the way home. That counted as an accomplishment, as far as he was concerned.

Before he could form another coherent thought, Cas was in his lap, straddling him, neck held at an awkward angle to keep from slamming his head into the top of the car interior as he kissed Dean enthusiastically. Jimmy followed close behind, never letting his hands leave Cas body as he leaned close to place a sloppy lick on Dean's cheek. Sharp tugs got Cas' shirt untucked and Dean smoothed his hands along the bare skin beneath, his heart quavering guiltily as he felt flesh trembling at his slight touch. Cas must be fucking _exhausted_. Jimmy, too.

"Come on, let's get home," Dean said gently, breaking off the kiss. He had the barest glimpse of shocking petulance on Cas' face before chapped lips were pressed once more to his, pooling heat in his gut with every caressing brush of flesh. Hands tangled in Dean's hair, smoothed the t-shirt over his belly, flicked teasingly over the bulge in his pants. Cas pinned Dean in place and Jimmy pressed closer to them both, determined to find space for himself around their bodies in the tight confines of the car.

This _is home._

"He's right, Cas," said Jimmy, teasing at one of Dean's nipples through his shirt. Dean blew out an explosive breath, forcing Cas to leave off his attentions. Slightly wild-eyed, Cas drew away, panting, hands clutching Dean's shoulders. "We should get him upstairs."

They tumbled together through the driver's side door of the Impala, Cas attached to Dean's front and refusing to let him go, Jimmy against his back, his prominent hard on impossible to ignore. Fumbling blindly, Dean managed to get the door closed and locked, only to have Cas throw him into the side of the car, grab the open sides of Dean's leather jacket and lean his whole body against Dean's, so close that Dean wasn't sure which of them was quivering with excitement and arousal, or if it was both of them. In those moments, they might have had one body, shared one set of feelings, one set of desires, as hands locked together, fingers interlaced, mouths joined, hips and chests and thighs rubbed. Eyes closed, Dean let Cas absorb him through those touches, relishing the heat, only regretting that there was no place for Jimmy. Hands fell on Dean's pants, snagged in his belt loops, and tugged him, and Dean opened his eyes to find that he was wrong – Jimmy had found his spot, close against Cas' back, using his hold on Dean's jeans to get them all moving towards the apartment.

It had never taken Dean so long to cover such a short distance. Only the sobering realization that if he didn't get the brothers into the house, he'd never get them naked, kept Dean moving and temporarily cooled his ardor. All of them naked was an essential goal, far more enticing than even the current temptations, and Dean reached down and nudged Cas to lift his legs, wrap them around Dean's waist as Cas' arms were already locked firmly around his neck, so that Dean could carry Cas into the building. It was the only way to get the twin to allow any forward progress at all. Supporting Cas' weight and stumbling forward under the unrelenting onslaught of kisses was all Dean could manage, but fortunately Jimmy retained enough self-possession to get the main door open, hustle up the stairs, and unlock the apartment door, as Dean laboriously hauled the recalcitrant Cas up two flights. When he arrived at the apartment, Jimmy held the door for them with a flourish and a grin.

 _This is home_.

The door closed with a loud thud, the deadbolt clicked into place, and Jimmy was on Dean's back instantly, hands roaming over Cas' sides, hips rutting Jimmy's erection against Dean's ass. A satisfied grunt accompanied Jimmy's mouth finding the tendon of Dean's neck, teeth nipping at him aggressively. Easing Cas' back to the ground, Dean shrugged out of his leather coat, letting it fall to the ground at their feet. Jimmy's hands found Cas' belt, undoing it expertly despite how little space there was between Dean and Cas' bodies. Imitating his brother, Cas reached behind Dean to where Jimmy's hips were pressed to Dean's ass, tearing the button open, yanking down Jimmy's jeans. Cas' trousers and boxers hit the ground a moment later, and front and back, each rubbed bared erections against Dean's jeans and nearly identical moans leaked free. Dean grabbed Cas' unbuttoned top and insistently tugged at it until Cas relented, let go of Jimmy, stopped kissing Dean long enough for Dean to remove the shirt and vest, sliding his hands over inch of skin he bared in the process, leaning down to feather light kisses over Cas' shoulders and upper chest. Inspired by Dean's actions, Cas tugged at Jimmy's jacket, pulled the pink t-shirt over Jimmy's head. Shoes were kicked off casually, and then both were surrounding Dean again, naked while he was fully clothed, touching all over his body until he felt dizzy and drunk on teasing brushes and tantalizing pressure.

Flesh pressed around Dean's shoulder, front and back, the sinful sounds of intense kisses sent a shiver down his spine. Dean broke off his attentions to Cas' gorgeous skin to watch in awe as the brothers locked lips and made out passionately. Needy sounds choked in Cas' throat as he kissed Jimmy frantically, and Jimmy answered with soothing noises, tender in his support, a hand gently cupping Cas' cheek. Dean placed reassuring hands at the curve above Cas' ass, aroused more than he'd have imagined to see the two so enthusiastic for each other, a sight he had rarely had the pleasure of. Though their words had always hinted at intimacy, when the three were together Dean was usually the object of attention, the brothers sparing only occasional caresses and glancing kisses for each other. Jealous fantasies had explained this inconsistency to Dean by suggesting that they made love when he wasn't around, but now Dean understood what he hadn't before. They didn't _let_ themselves express this passion, except that with Dean's outburst, the levy had broken, and every bit of the desperation that had been thick in every word Jimmy had spoken earlier was pouring free. It was fucking _exquisite_. Jimmy hand was splayed on Dean's thighs, urging Dean to rub against Jimmy's erection, Cas hands roamed urgently over Dean's back as though looking for something to hold onto and only finding firm muscle, faint curves, smooth planes, and the brothers kissed as if the three of them were all that existed, all that neeed to exist.

"Jimmy," whispered Cas as the two broke off, panting. Dean watched, mesmerized, as the brothers' eyes met, electric, earnest expressions on each face. "I love you."

"Cassie," Jimmy groaned, fingers tensing on Cas' cheek. "Fuck, Cassie, I…" He bit off the words and caught Cas' lips again, a whisper of a sigh escaping Cas as he willingly opened his mouth to Jimmy's tongue.

Dean pressed his lips to Cas' neck, kissed over his pulse, teased along the perfect curve of tendons and muscle, sucked bruises into Cas' clavicle where his shirt would hide the marks. Jimmy rutted gently against Dean's ass, hips moving in a rhythm that matched that of his lips working against Cas'. Cas' desperate fingers teased at the strip of skin bared between Dean's shirt and pants, at Jimmy's cock where it pressed against him. The heat of their bodies enveloped him, the wet smacks of their kissing was loud in his ear, the noises each made coursed through Dean's blood as hotly as any physical touch, and Dean's cock ached against the confines of his jeans.

Twisting in their arms, Dean turned to face Jimmy and promptly gave Jimmy's neck the same treatment as he'd given Cas'. Growling appreciatively deep in his throat, Jimmy grabbed Dean's package and rubbed it roughly, rutting his cock against Dean's hip, forcing vocal breaths from Dean. A light sheen of sweat smoothed the way as Dean ran his hands over Jimmy's body, reveling in it, all the subtle ways it was different from Cas', all the ways it was similar. He skimmed his nails lightly over bones and along the edges of muscles, Cas' hands joining him as Cas leaned into Dean's back, working together to give Jimmy pleasure. Dean was determined to show with touch and affection that, though he'd never known Jimmy as well, the younger twin was as indispensable to him as Cas was, as dear to him as Cas was. Two weeks prior, Dean had dared to think that if he had to pick, he'd choose Cas. Now he knew that was bull. He could never pick. He needed them both. Fuck, he _loved_ them both. He could as easily choose which leg to tear off. It wasn't _home_ if they weren't both with him. The twins eagerly rutted against Dean's body as the kissed, broke off, breathed desperately, locked lips once more. The intensity of the moment was shocking, and Dean soared higher and higher, exhaustion, stress, and the emotional roller coaster that had been the past 24 hours leaving him light headed and consumed by his arousal.

With a gasp, Jimmy broke off the kiss, collapsed against Dean, dropped his chin to Dean's neck, let his arms rest on Dean's hips, breathing hard. Cas pulled back, tugged Dean's head around, brushed a kiss over Dean's cheek, flashed Dean a lust-filled gaze that seared through his whole body.

"I want you to fuck me, Cassie," whispered Jimmy in a desperate rush. Cas' face blanked with shock. Hastily, he added, "Only if you want to, I mean."

"Jimmy…" breathed Cas. Against his ass and the small of his back, Dean could feel the violent twitch of Cas' erection in response to the words, and Dean couldn't help but moan softly.

"Forget it," Jimmy said with practiced self-control, drawing abruptly away from Dean, gaze distant. He licked an open-mouthed kiss against Dean's neck. "Stupid-ass thing to say. Caught up in the moment."

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean couldn't help but grin at the look on Cas' face, hungry, lustful, dazzlingly intent.

"Would you take my brother into the bedroom and prep him for me?" Cas' voice was rough with desire, ragged after the difficult day, and utterly irresistible. Jimmy groaned against Dean's neck, hands tightening convulsively around Dean's waist.

"Cas—" Jimmy protested.

"You heard the man," said Dean, smirking. Wrapping one arm firmly around Jimmy's shoulders, Dean scooped an arm beneath Jimmy's knees and picked him up. Jimmy squawked in surprise, kicked out and nearly caused Dean to drop him. Throwing his arms around Dean's neck, Jimmy calmed into the hold as Dean took an unsteady step towards the bedroom. Jimmy was heavier than Cas, and arousal had Dean so buzzed it was hard to get his muscles to engage. It was worth the strain to feel Jimmy hold him close and tremble, press his forehead to Dean's shoulder, moan vocal breaths hot against Dean's t-shirt. Cas moved away, bare feet slapping against the kitchen tiles, the sound of running water fading to nothing as Dean carried Jimmy into the dark bedroom.

"We've never…" Jimmy whispered, clutching at Dean's shoulders. "I shouldn't have…"

"Shh, yeah, you should," said Dean soothingly. "Did you see his face? He's not doing this because you asked. That was not the face of someone about to pity fuck someone. He wants you, Jimmy."

"He really does," amazement was thick in Jimmy's soft voice. "He's never said anything…I didn't think…hand jobs and BJs are one thing…"

"Yeah, and Cas' cock in your ass is a whole other," Dean said lasciviously. Jimmy moaned, arms tightening convulsively around Dean at the thought. "You're gonna love it, Jimmy. Now, shut up and kiss me." Carefully, Dean sat on the bed, planting his feet on the floor. Instantly, Jimmy shifted to straddle Dean's lap, lay his hands on Dean's scruffy cheeks and kissed him with every bit as much passion as he'd been kissing Cas. Dean reached out blindly to open the drawer of the nightstand and fish within for a bottle of lube. With his other hand, Dean tangled fingers in Jimmy's messy hair, leaned up into the kiss, opened his lips to Jimmy's taunting tongue. Flitting out to skim along Dean's mouth, Jimmy teased at Dean's teeth, brushed moist tongue tips, denied Dean the opportunity to reciprocate. Questing fingers found hard plastic and Dean triumphantly grabbed the bottle of lube, lowered his hand to squeeze chill liquid onto three of his fingers, reached around Jimmy and ran the dry pad of his thumb over Jimmy's tight pucker. With a groan, Jimmy arched away from Dean, fingers gripping Dean's cheeks hard, ass straining back towards the contact, and Dean teased him, scraping at the wrinkled skin, pressing against the entrance in a way he knew was entirely inadequate. Relaxing slightly, easing back into another kiss, Jimmy lowered his hips, rolled gently against Dean's crotch, back against Dean's hand, forward against Dean's bulge, grazing Jimmy's erection over rough denim and soft cotton. Heat crept through Dean's flesh, eased his muscles, wiped his mind clear of everything save desire and the forgiveness inherent in every needy touch against his body.

A finger breached Jimmy's entrance, and Jimmy cried out and ground against Dean's hand. Surprised, Dean wrapped his arm around Jimmy's back, laid his injured hand against Jimmy's shoulder blade and eased him with soothing noises. Jimmy's back was rigid with tension, his hole clenched and tight. Patiently, Dean twisted the finger, waiting for the harsh pressure against the intrusion to relax. Clinging to him, Jimmy let out a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," Jimmy managed. "I'm trying…" Dean ran a firm thumb down Jimmy's spine soothingly, and Jimmy shudder again and relaxed perceptibly. "Do you think he…maybe I shouldn't have…if he doesn't want to, would you?" Jimmy's voice was feverish with the need. "Will you fill me, Dean? I need—" Experimentally, Dean wiggled the finger inside of Jimmy, pulled out to the joint and thrust back in, and was pleased to feel the flesh accommodating him, the tight ring of muscles ceasing to strain against him. Jimmy moaned, nipping at Dean's neck fervently, cheeks flushed crimson, dabs of moisture soaking through Dean's shirt where Jimmy's cock smeared him with pre-come.

"Of course I will," Dean murmured kindly, convinced Jimmy's concerns were unwarranted.

"I want to, Jimmy," Cas confirmed. Standing in the bedroom doorway, Cas hesitated, balancing three cups in between hand, a damp hand towel draped over his shoulder. Dean caught his eye and gave him an easy smile, and was surprised at the shyness with which Cas returned it, timidity belying the confident tone of his voice. Jimmy draped his arms over Dean's back and shoved his ass back against Dean's hand, offering it towards Cas as Dean began to thrust in and out slowly, spreading lube around, pressing against each wall of Jimmy's entrance to further the release of taut muscles. "I thought you didn't. You never said anything." Crossing the room, Cas set the three cups down on the night stand and draped the washcloth over the headboard.

"You're my brother," continued Cas tentatively, "and I love you." Tension wracked Jimmy's body at the words. With a deep breath, obviously steeling himself, Cas wrapped his hands around Jimmy's shoulders and massaged the flesh with his palms. Incrementally, Jimmy was pacified by Cas' touch, softening, muscles going slack. "With everything you'd done for me, after everything you've given me, how could I possibly ask you for more?" Working down Jimmy's back, Cas spared tender brushes against the Dean's steadying hand pressed to Jimmy's lower back. Jimmy hunched into the contact, so catlike that Dean was surprised he wasn't purring. "I wanted to, Jimmy," whispered Cas, leaning in to trail gentle kisses along Jimmy's shoulders. "I can finally show you how much I've wanted to." Dean teased a second finger at Jimmy's entrance, earning a hissed exhalation in response.

"Exactly…how I felt…" Jimmy breathed. He moaned, long and husky, as Dean slowly opened him with a second slick finger. Cas crowded closer behind Jimmy, and Dean felt hot, stiff cock brush against his hand and come to rest against Jimmy's butt cheek. A quiver of anticipation started in Jimmy's thighs, traced noticeably through his back and along his arms, shook through Dean's spine and forced a quiet groan through his lips. Urgently pushing backwards, Jimmy pushed Dean's fingers deeper, harder, as Jimmy pivoted his hips against Cas' cock. Incoherent mumbles resolved into words, "…so much, want you so much, so much, Cassie, wouldn't believe how much, always have, always…"

Hands slipped between Jimmy and Dean, Dean felt Cas brush against the fabric of Dean's shirt as he wrapped a loose grip around his brother's cock and stroked him tenderly. Another envious moan escaped Dean's lips. Cas shifted his attention from Jimmy to Dean for a moment, mouthing kisses at Dean's cheek, their lips meeting briefly, gratefulness evident in Cas' expression and tenderness.

 _They were never able to have this together_. _They can because I'm here._

Dean had been a fool to think that Jimmy and Cas wanting each other excluded their wanting Dean. The truth was exactly the opposite, just as Jimmy had said. If not for Dean, their inhibitions would keep them apart. His presence was the difference, and knowing that made him feel unfamiliarly powerful. Dean spread his fingers within Jimmy, widening him as Cas palmed Jimmy's cheeks apart and tugged at Jimmy's rim with his thumbs. In the past, Dean's control during sexual situations had derived from his self-control, his ability to give pleasure to his partner or partners. This was different. Dean's ability to help Jimmy and Cas had nothing to do with what he could do _for_ them. His presence, and the affection that the three of them shared, was enough. Dean didn't have to do _anything_ except be himself, be present, be _there_ for the people he loved. _The people who loved him_. Feeling completely liberated by the realization, he began to thrust roughly in and out of Jimmy's ass, pressing in a third finger.

"Jimmy – look at Dean." There was a hint of a smirk on Cas' face, but he sounded happy, almost awed. With a rush of heat to his cheeks, Dean realized his lips were spread in a serene, delighted smile. Embarrassed, the look began to harden into a scowl, but then Cas' lips were on his again, gentle and caring, and the former expression won out. Cas drew away and Jimmy met Dean's eyes, a thin rim of bottomless blue surrounding dilated black swimming with pleasured tears. Eagerly, Jimmy stole a kiss too even as he urged Dean to penetrate him deeper.

"I love you," Dean murmured against Jimmy's lips, simultaneously pulling out and using only his finger tips to spread Jimmy as widely as he could.

"Dean," Jimmy moaned, drawing his name out, rubbing shameless at Dean's back, chest to chest, hips stuttering as Jimmy couldn't figure out whether to chase Cas' grip on his cock or Dean's fingers stretching his rim. Dean and Cas each took one side of Jimmy's neck and mouthed loose kisses against his skin.

"I'm ready, Cassie," gasped Jimmy. "I'm ready!"

Recognizing his cue, Dean seized the initiative. He leaned back and drew Jimmy with him, laying against the bed, and lifted his legs and spread them wide, resting the soles of his shoes against the corner of the mattress. As he continued to work Jimmy open with one hand, he used the other to indicate how he wanted Jimmy to move, encouraging Jimmy to get on his knees between Dean's legs, raise his hips, until Jimmy's face and chest were flush with Dean's his back arching gracefully, his ass in line with where Cas stood at the edge of the bed, cock sticking out, staring avidly at where Dean's hand worked. By way of invitation, Dean stopped, withdrew most of the way, opened up Jimmy wide. Cas licked his lips, slid his hands to Jimmy's hips, chest huffing with desperate, gasping breaths, jaw slowly falling open, gaze gradually widening even as his pupils grew pitch black with lust.

"I've got you," murmured Dean reassuringly to Jimmy. "Good to go?" Wordlessly, Jimmy nodded against him. Dean could feel sodden cloth brushing his skin where tears had soaked through his shirt. Looking up, Dean caught Cas' eye. "You ready?" Frantically nodding, gulping, Cas took a hold of himself and closed the space between himself and Jimmy, using his grip to adjust Jimmy's position until cock and hole were perfectly lined up. Jimmy was practically sobbing with anticipation.

Hot, soft-skinned cock brushed against Dean's facilitating fingers, smearing them with pre-come. He swallowed a moan, a small, incredibly horny part of him screaming protests that he wanted that cock for himself and what the _fuck_ was he doing putting it into another man. That the other man was _Jimmy_ , clinging to Dean like he was salvation, shaking with need, was all that Dean needed to quiet that voice. Dean knew exactly how good Jimmy was about to feel, and as much as Dean wanted Cas for himself, he wanted this for Jimmy even more. That intellectual want spiked hot through Dean's physical desire, and he felt feverish with it, elated, so fucking glad he'd come home.

Cas' cock came to rest against Jimmy's pucker and both men groaned, gasping, frozen in tableau as the moment lengthened. Switching his hand to wrap fingers around the head of Cas' cock, Dean encouraged Cas to press forward, and with a deep breath Cas did so, eyes slipping rapturously shut, head falling back as he began to spread his brother for the first time. Cas' lips moved continuously, mouthing what looked like his brother's name repeatedly. Straining against Cas' tightening grip on his hips, Jimmy trembled with the effort of not pushing back hard against what he had wanted for so long. Cupping Jimmy's ass, Dean helped restrain him, concerned that in his eagerness Jimmy would move too quickly and inadvertently hurt himself. Tense and tight, and it wouldn't take much to tear Jimmy's tender flesh. A wry thought suggested that bleeding would be about the only thing that could ruin this moment for the twins.

After what seemed an age of Jimmy's moaning against Dean's chest, Cas was buried as deeply as he could be, and Jimmy's hips were rolling, slightly, involuntarily, into the contact. "Cassie," whimpered Jimmy. "Fuck me, Cassie!" With a groan, Cas drew back at a measured pace, pressed back in just as slowly. "Please, brother!" Cas' next groan dissolved into a throaty growl as he cocked his hips back, grabbed Jimmy's hips, and thrust in hard as he pulled Jimmy back against him. The cry that burst from Jimmy's lips was so profoundly satisfied that Dean couldn't help but groan in response. Trapped between Dean's back and the bedspread, Jimmy's hands balled into fists, clutching desperately at the fabric of Dean's t-shirt. Grip white-knuckled, Cas withdrew and thrust again, earning another shuddering cry from Jimmy. Glancing from one ecstatic face to the other, matched in every feature, eyes shut, mouths slack, cheeks flushed bright red with passion, Dean's breathing began to race, his body pleading for sensual touch, his trapped cock aching for pressure and tightness. Dean shifted an arm from Jimmy's shoulders to slip it between them and satisfy his growing need, but the moment he moved Jimmy shook his head violently.

"Hold me, Dean," Jimmy moaned as Cas thrust again. "Don't let me go. Please…I can't…" Totally lost in bliss, Cas didn't catch the note of panic in Jimmy's voice, didn't stop moving. Dean froze, worried that Cas might be inadvertently hurting Jimmy, and wrapped the arm securely around Jimmy's waist. "Feels so good!" Dean's concerns dissipated instantly. The force with which Cas filled Jimmy slammed Dean and Jimmy's bodies together, forcing the breath from Jimmy's throat in a rush the rendered his groan harsh and guttural. "This feels…" Jimmy's body went tense as Cas thrust again, Cas' words finally resolving into a semblance of sense.

"… _God,_ Jimmy, _amazing_ , dreamed of…wanted to…waited so long, so long…"

"I know, Jimmy," Dean said soothing, flattening both palms against the sweaty skin of Jimmy's back. If anyone knew how important it was to having something grounding to focus on, it was Dean. Another snap of Cas' hips, fierce and dominating, drove Jimmy into Dean's chest again. Warmth burst through Dean's body, cocooned his heart, affection and protectiveness and lust all tangled together.

He'd almost given this up. He's almost left this behind to go back to _Lawrence_.

"…tight and _hot_ and, God, it's _you_ and…and…"

"I'm so full of him," sobbed Jimmy. "I'm so full of _Cas_." He broke off with a whimper, fingers digging into Dean's back, scrambling for purchase against smooth cloth, as Cas bottomed out again. "I'm going to come." A sound between a laugh and a moan burst from Jimmy, dissolving into hysterical giggles as Cas pulled out deliberately and then powerfully thrust in. " _Shit_ that's embarrassing, we just started…he's not even touching me…I'm going to…"

"…so close, I'm so close, I'm sorry…" Cas' eyes flew open, completely unfocused. Judging by his expression, he was utterly gone, enveloped in sensation, hardly aware of anything else. Grip digging into Jimmy's flesh, Cas hastened his rhythm, rocking Jimmy against him with each thrust. "…can't…amazing, feels amazing, feels perfect, you're perfect…"

"…going to come, Cassie, I'm going to…"

"Jimmy," groaned Cas, his steady thrusts dissolving into quick, frantic jabs.

"Cas…" Jimmy's arms around Dean tightened painfully, compressing Dean's chest as tension built through Jimmy's whole body. "Cassie, please…"

"Love you, brother…love you…love…" Arching forward, Cas pulled his brother against his cock as he planted his lips against Jimmy's spine, just below where Dean held him.

"Castiel!"

Wetness splattered Dean's shirt, soaking through instantly, as Jimmy writhed against Dean's chest, strained against his hold, broken fragments of Cas' name scattered amidst uncontrollable moans and cries. A profound groan ground out of Cas, his body collapsed against Jimmy's as his hips stuttered through his climax. His knees gave way to crash him heavily against the edge of the bed between where Dean's feet rested, causing the whole bed to rock and shift. Panting, Cas leaned against one of Dean's legs, clutched Jimmy's hips to keep himself upright, arms shaking.

Dean was buzzed on the musky desire and need that flooded the room. Though he'd played only a peripheral role, his flesh was overheated beneath his clothing, his head was stuffed so full of need and light that he could hardly think of anything else, and his breathing was nearly as labored as the twins. A faint rush as of wind obscured his hearing, every slight brush of cloth against his skin tickled and teased, and his cock strained against the wetness soaking his boxers where pre-come had leaked from him.

With a ragged breath, Cas pulled out of Jimmy, managed an unsteady step before he collapsed onto the bed and rolled onto his side, curled in on himself, facing away from Dean and Jimmy.

"Cas?" Dean asked, shocked by how hoarse his voice was. Desperate want clutched at his throat, his need growing by the moment as his brain looped through a replay of those last few moments, the sounds each man had made, the looks on each of their faces, the heat of their bodies against his, the thick smell of their arousal thick in the air, the euphoric rush of knowing how much pleasure each was experiencing. Tentatively, Dean reached out to brush fingers against the damp flesh at the base of Cas' neck, ruffling sweat-slicked hair. Cas flinched and wrapped his arms more tightly against his middle.

Moving as if it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, Jimmy shifted off of Dean and edged towards his brother. "Cassie, you okay?" Jimmy's voice was absolutely wrecked, reedy and thin. He put a hand on Cas' side, and in response, Cas started to shake silently. "Hey, bro…you good? What's the matter? What's…?"

A burst of laughter interrupted Jimmy. In a single swift motion, Cas had an arm around Jimmy's waist, pulled him over, got him flat on his back on the bed, straddled over him, planted his arms on either side of Jimmy's head and planted a solid kiss to his lips, laughing all the while. The kiss broke off, triumph painting a broad grin on Cas' face.

"That was amazing," he said, voice rich, deep with humor and pure, hardcore sex.

"Yes," breathed Jimmy. "I love you, Cassie." Cas laughed again, a delighted sound that brought a silly smile to Dean's face.

They seemed so far away, only a couple feet further down the bed. With Jimmy's weight no longer on him, Dean felt cold, wet with sweat and pre-come and Jimmy's tears and the semen streaked white against his black t-shirt. His skin tingled with the need for someone to touch him, and he longed to speak, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the moment they were sharing.

Cas leaned down and kissed Jimmy again, slowly, passionately, and Dean watched with bemused detachment, licking his lips imagining that kiss being given to him. Cheeks puckered and swelled, wet sounds smacked and popped, lips drew apart momentarily while tongues yet tangled, only to come together again. Dean weakly raised an arm to his chest, trailed his hand down his torso, continued down his body until he had a palm resting over his cock. With a relieved sigh, he pressed against his aching need, eyes yet glued to the twins as they kissed passionately.

A small, jealous whimper died in Dean's throat.

Both twins froze, then broke apart and turned to look at him. Jimmy's lips curled into a wicked grin, and Cas' eyes narrowed with consideration.

"Dean," purred Jimmy.

Dean's palm stilled against himself and he swallowed, staring wide-eyed at their matching predatory looks.

"Hey…uh—"

A hungry mouth, teeth catching at his lips, interrupted him. Arms were behind him, lifting him up awkwardly as another set of hands grabbed the bottom of his t shirt and lifted it. The collar snagged on his chin, as Cas refused to stop long enough for the shirt to be removed. Dean's eyes snapped shut against the bliss, against the overwhelming sight of Cas' gorgeous blue eyes inches from his as he stared challenging at Dean, not even blinking, fucking _dominated_ Dean's mouth.

"Seriously, Cas?" said Jimmy dryly. With a possessive growl, Cas broke the aggressive kiss, grabbed the shirt and tore it over Dean's head, tangling it up in his arms, leaving them trapped and bound by the fabric. Before Dean could attempt to win free, Cas was back on him, straddling his hips, grinding his crotch against Dean's arousal, attacking Dean's mouth with his own. Even through all their scenes, Dean didn't think he'd ever felt so _owned_ , and it was fucking glorious. Kissing back as best he could, he let Jimmy drag him upright, cradle Dean's back against his chest. Hands – he had no fucking idea whose, it was impossible to keep track with the brothers touching him everywhere and Cas tongue-fucking him – grasped his shoulder, attacked the button on his jeans, twisted his nipples roughly, raked through his hair. Increasingly desperate whimpers struggled to break free of his throat, and he vainly attempted to free his arms from the shirt binding them.

 _Want to touch…want to taste…want to feel…want to smell…want to see…want everything, want both of them, want this, want this_ forever _…_

"Lube," snapped Cas, breathing heavily as he broke the kiss off only long enough only to speak the word. With a moment's reprieve, Dean heaved a huge gasp to fill his lungs, and then Cas was on him again, the rush of oxygen and euphoric pleasure causing vertigo so intense Dean wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or closed, if he was face up or face down or under water or…or…fuck all if he knew. He got his arms around Cas' back, holding him close, and immersed himself in the fucking _perfect_ Novak twins.

"Can't do anything about the lube while his pants are still on," pointed out Jimmy, voice gruff from hard usage and choked with restrained laughter.

Cas actually fucking _snarled_ as he pulled away from Dean's body and slid out from Dean's embrace. With a desperate gasp, Dean's eyes flew open in time to watch Cas tear his shoes off – he'd never bother to tie them after he'd stormed out earlier – grasp the waist of Dean's undone pants and yank them down hard, leaving them as tangled around his ankles as his shirt was around his arms. Dean's cock sprang free to rest heavy, thick and red against his stomach, a stuttering moan of relief leaking from him to finally be free of the constraint of the coarse denim. Jimmy grunted wordless approval against his back and, somehow having gotten a hold of the lube bottle, he held his hands before Dean, squeezed lube onto one, and slid it between Dean's spread thighs. Two fingertips pressed against his entrance teasingly, Cas stared intently as he squatted between Dean's knees, and then with a swift, hard thrust Jimmy's fingers breached and filled him. A groan punched free of his lungs, his arched back against Jimmy's supporting embrace, and his vision blanked in pleasure as Jimmy pressed against his prostate, locating it with the ease of long practice, rubbing against it with small, gentle strokes that felt enormous and all-consumingly good.

His eyes fluttered open and closed, the room appeared in flashes of swimming white painted walls swirled with the blue of the comforter. Cas' face blurred out of focus, eyes electric blue, skin pale, hair dark, and Dean had an instant's warning before lips closed over the head of his cock. A gasp like all the air in him was drawn out at once caused his whole body to go rigid as bliss burned through him from toes to finger tips to forehead. With an approving hum that vibrated through Dean like a damn electric shock, Cas sucked down his early release, licked around his head, kissed and mouthed up and down his length, had the fucking _audacity_ to nip at his balls, teased him even as Jimmy ceased moving within him.

"Cas," Dean whispered desperately. "Cas…Jimmy…please…fucking _Christ_ , please…"

Cas broke off his attentions, and Dean moaned pitifully. "Please _what_ , Dean?" The son of a bitch sounded _coy_! No voice that deep, that raspy, that fucking sexy should sound like that.

"Please—"

Interrupting him, Jimmy wiggled a brief reminder against his insides.

"What do you want, Dean?" Jimmy's tone was the perfect echo of his brother's.

 _Two of them. Fucking_ two _of them. I swear to God they are going to kill me one of these days._

"Suck…my damn…cock," Dean managed to grind out. Cas responded instantly, making a ring of his lips and enveloping Dean in sultry perfection. His mouth fell open, no further sound coming out, as Cas' hands trailed up his torso and strong fingers toyed with his nipples. All other thought was obliterated, and Dean couldn't have said how long passed, one of his bound hands coming to rest of Cas' head as he bobbed up and down and gave Dean's cock the same dominant ownership he'd shown towards Dean's mouth.

"What about me?" Jimmy asked innocently, twitching a finger against the nub of sensitivity within him.

"Jimmy, please…" The words died in whimpers as Cas hollowed a cheek and took Dean deeper, the head of his cock under constant, wonderful pressure, Cas swallowing around Dean every time he took him deep. " _Fuck_ , Cas, you're awesome at that…you're awesome…fuck…fucking touch me, Jimmy…" He searched for some accurate way to describe what he needed, Jimmy was just the bastard to expect specificity, and his thoughts came up blank save for _shit shit shit that feels amazing_ and _need his fingers to move right the fuck now_. "Rub me! Inside, rub me!" Raspy laughter blocked out even the wet sounds of Cas' mouth as Jimmy leaned and nuzzled at Dean's neck.

"Close enough," Jimmy said like a fucking king granting clemency, and two fingers thrust in and out of Dean experimentally, spreading lube, and then Jimmy buried them deeply and massaged his prostate. Everything fell away as Dean twitched and trembled helplessly, drowned by the perfect combination. Cas' tongue did unspeakable things to his dick as he sucked, toying at the slit, tracing every sensitive line, scraping just a hint of teeth over the ridge beneath the head, teasing him until he wanted to cry and then taking all of him until he _did_ cry. Jimmy applied hard pressure then soft, thrust in gently, roughly, stopped buried deep to rub against him. The combination was mind numbing, literally, there was not a single damn thing in Dean's head except fucking fireworks, searing brightness, shocking bliss, and the conviction that the only thing he needed was for them to never, ever, _ever_ fucking stop.

A third finger penetrated him and joined the first two, and the additional friction, added to the caresses to his prostate, felt so good his vision blanked blue. Cas tilted his head back and took Dean into his throat, lips coming to rest at the base of his cock. Someone placed a hand over his heart, another cupped his cheek, a third gripped his hip.

"Jimmy," he whimpered. "Cas…Cas…"

"We've got you, Dean," Jimmy's voice fell over him like a warm blanket, the last piece he'd been missing. "We'll never let you go."

With a swallow from Cas, a jab from Jimmy, and Jimmy's sweet words echoing through his head, Dean came apart, shaking violently as ecstasy coursed through every inch of his body, his hips jerking against the hand gripping him, his torso held steady against Jimmy's back by the hand over his heart, his body rippling with bliss like he was caught in a hurricane.

Weightless, floating, high on pleasure, it felt like a lifetime before the feelings finally passed and brought him down to earth.

In the past, except when he was in a scene, that feeling of returning to himself had often been wretched, like finding heaven until to return to hell.

Today, it was coming home.

In the wake of that heady experience, there was quiet save for heavy breathing, there were gentle hands clasped over his heart, there was Jimmy slumped against his back, there was Cas holding Dean's hips gently, tickling stubble and nuzzling open-mouth kisses over his inner thighs. Catching his eye, Cas broke into an exhausted, elated smile, turned and pulled Dean's pants clear of his ankles as Jimmy took mercy on him and untangled the shirt from around his arms. Dean collapsed weakly against Jimmy, who seemed barely able to support either of their weight. Cas climbed into Dean's lap and gave him a gentle kiss which Dean reciprocated weakly, tasting the strange, bitter flavor of his come on Cas' lips. With a sigh, they fell together onto the bed, arms and legs jumbled together as they all sought to be in contact with as much of each other as possible. Twisting, Dean managed to get an arm around the waist of each brother, pulling them close against his body. Arms embraced him from each side, and the twins wrapped an arm around each other, and the three lay as close as they could, united in exhaustion, satisfaction, affection, and contentment.

"I love you, Cas," murmured Dean, brushing lips to Cas' forehead. "You too, Jimmy."

"Don't leave again," Cas whispered, supplication and pleading in his tone. "I can't…I can't lose you. Either of you."

"I can't promise never to be a dumbass again," Dean said sadly, earning himself a squeeze from Cas' arm. "But I'm here now. I came back. When it happens again, I'll come back. There's shit we have to talk about, but we can do it in the morning. Okay?"

Cas nodded against him. The contrast between the dominant man who had fucked his brother, sucked Dean's cock until he was within about an inch of dying of it, and this sensitive, affectionate lover was completely endearing, and Dean cherished him for it.

"You're an idiot, Dean," supplied Jimmy sleepily. Dean couldn't help but smile.

"You are too," Dean pointed out. Deliberately echoing his words from earlier, he added, "You know you love it."

"Yup," Jimmy said, yawning. "I really, really do…" The words trailed off as if Jimmy was falling asleep mid-sentence. Releasing his hold on them – earning himself matching disappointed whimpers, Dean reached up and ran his hand along the headboard until his fingers found the wet terrycloth of the washcloth. The hand towel had grown chill while they'd made love, but nonetheless he grabbed it and used it to gently sponge off Jimmy's, then Cas' back. When he finished, Cas propped himself up on an elbow, took the cloth, cleaned Dean's front, all three taking turns until all the semen and lube and sweat was gone from their bodies. There was nothing but love and openness and forgiveness and pleasure on the twin's nearly identical faces, and Dean's heart melted with joy.

 _I get to have this._

 _I want this._

 _I deserve this._

When they were done cleaning up, Cas insistently passed out the cups of water, Jimmy grinning wryly as he drank some, Dean watching each twin with bemused pleasure as he took slow sips of his own.

 _Wow_.

"You okay, Dean?" asked Cas with a hint of concern, catching his expression.

The words took a moment to register, Dean was so lost in happy, wondrous thoughts. By the time his brain caught up with what had been said, Cas' brow had furrowed, and Jimmy had lowered his cup to frown at him.

"Yeah," Dean said, voice thick with heart felt emotion. "I'm fucking great. I'm luckiest son of a bitch on the planet." A brilliant smile won over Cas' features, and Jimmy snorted a laugh that failed to cover tears of gladness flooding his eyes. "You two have any idea how fucking amazing you are?"

"Yup," said Jimmy without batting an eyelash.

Dean stuck out his tongue at him.

Cas rolled his eyes affectionately at both of them.

Minutes later saw them under the covers, bodies tucked together, huddled in the center of Jimmy's bed. It must be past 4 AM, a faint glow of light through the window spoke of the impending dawn. No alarm was set. Jimmy and Cas had both arranged for the day off in light of Thursday, and Dean didn't have another shift until Monday. Cas clung to Dean's back, Jimmy clutched at his sides, both expressing with body language what neither could say, their fear that if they didn't hold tight he might vanish again. He'd been a monumental douche bag to frighten them so badly.

 _I'll make it up to them. Real men atone for their fuck ups._

Both eased into sleep almost immediately, relaxing against him, and Dean glorified in the warmth, peace and contentment he'd so rarely allowed himself to accept without reservation. They hadn't needed to fuck him stupid this time, hadn't needed to dominate him into ease and compliance. For once, Dean experienced fulfillment because he let himself, because for once, he'd granted himself permission to enjoy that which he wanted so badly.

 _Real men don't do this touchy feely bullshit,_ John Winchester's voice revived to lamely chastise him.

 _Fuck you, John. I'm a real men, and they're real men, and this_ relationship _is the realest fucking thing I've ever had aside from what I've got with Sam._

That shut the ghost of his father up right good.

Sandwiched between two firm, muscled, naked, matched, perfect bodies, Dean breathed his thanks to the indifferent night that he had this chance to fix things. When he inevitably fucked up again, he had it in himself to own up to his mistakes, and they'd be waiting for him, ready to try again.

In the morning, there would be consequences. In the morning, he would have to open up to them as Jimmy had opened up to him, apologize, explain the secrets of his past he'd kept from them, face the unlikely possibility of their condemnation. In the morning, John would whisper condemnation in his head, and he'd have to find the strength to push it away once more or risk losing his home. In the morning, he'd have to contact Sam, figure out some way to thank his brother for all his help, and explain their bizarre-ass threesome to be sure that Sam understood exactly what Dean meant when he said he was "with both of them."

In the morning, he'd acknowledge that it was a relationship, and remind them both how much he cared for them.

Dean fell asleep with the conviction that in the morning, everything would be okay. In the morning, things would be better than they'd been the day before. It wasn't the first time he'd ever had such a thought, but it was the first time, the very first time, that he'd truly, heart and soul, believed it.

* * *

So, at last, the promised smut! I hope it was worth the wait. :)

This story is now finished! Wooo! This turned in to a much bigger project than I was expecting, lol.

If you've read my other author's notes you'll know I'm notorious for making claims like "all the stories in this series will be short PWP one shots" and then I end up writing 35k of plot and angst. :) So, I have no idea where this series is going after this. I have an idea for an utterly porny one shot I'd like to write imminently, and a very basic idea for another story, no timeline on that one. :)

If you want more in this series, let me know! And if you want to make sure you get all the updates, make sure you subscribe to me as an author, not this specific story, cause I will not be updating this story again.

Thanks, everyone! Hope you've enjoyed! :)


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